


Confessional

by ScarletteStar1



Series: Confessional [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Abortion, Anal Play, Blood Play, Breast Fucking, Cheating, Church Sex, Cockwarming, Dirty Talk, Dissociation, Doggy Style, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Fight Sex, Fluff and Angst, Makeup Sex, Male Loss of Virginity, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Masturbation, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PTSD, Period Sex, Priest Sex, Rough Sex, Sex in Confessional, Shower Sex, Simultaneous Orgasm, Subdrop, illicit relationship with priest, lying, mentions of drugs/overdose, sacreligious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 60
Words: 148,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25224220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1
Summary: I wanted it all. I wanted my life, but I also wanted him. . .  I wanted the deep and tangled emotional connection that bound us in a series of knots from which we could not untie ourselves, yet I also wanted to protect whatever gnarled shreds of sanity and dignity I had left. . .  I cherished the marks he left on my flesh, and the shadows of sensation that lingered in places no one knew but me and the man who put them there.It was dark. It was desperate. It was ours.My memoirs of being the other woman to a man who was married to God. .XOXOXO 3/2/21 CHAPTER 60. . . .
Series: Confessional [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904509
Comments: 783
Kudos: 235





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags. . . this is an original work in progress that I will most likely tinker with over time. It is a work of fiction. All of the characters are products of my imagination and any resemblance to any people living or dead is purely coincidental.
> 
> My appreciation for you reading this is beyond my ability to articulate. Truly. Comments are absolutely adored, and I try to respond to everyone. xoxo.

Water lapped the small craft’s hull. He rowed away from shore and stopped. He pulled the oars into the boat and allowed it to bob and drift. He looked at the sky. Looking at anything always seemed easier for him than looking at me, even in the dark.

I stuck my arm overboard and trailed my hand in the water. In the otherwise quiet night, my aquatic slice of the waves seemed ridiculously loud. It startled us, brought his gaze from the sky to my silhouette.

“It’s like ink. I half expect my hand to come back up blackened.” I held my hand between us. Releasing his grip on the oars, he took my dripping hand in both of his and turned my palm toward heaven.

“A bit overcast, not much moon,” he murmured, but observed how my skin gleamed in the night all the same. He brought my hand to his lips, kissed the heel of it, sucked the salty water out of its delicate creases, licked each little pad at the bases of my fingers. I shivered at his mouth’s pressure.

It wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time like this. Brow wrinkled, he moved his lips in prayer on me.

The boat rocked, gentle as a cradle, on the waves. We were orphans, adrift.

“Is this how you imagined?” My cool, sea-moistened fingers plucked the side of his face.

He forced his eyes to meet mine. He couldn’t see their hyacinth blue; they shimmered inky, same as the water, same as his. “I never imagined this,” he sighed and turned to an invisible horizon.

“Lying is a sin, Father,” I meant for my tone to come off as playful, but he scowled.

“I hate when you call me that.”

“Sorry,” I said.

“Forget it,” he sighed.

Trying to resurrect the moment, I said, “Well maybe I imagined it for both of us then.” Without his collar and cloak, he looked almost like a normal man. I told him as much. I twisted my hand to grasp his, brought my other hand to join it. His hands were much larger than mine; I needed both of mine to compel one of his, but I brought it to the space over my heart. Grinning foolishly, I asked, “Couldn’t we keep going? Couldn’t we go until we reach another place where we aren’t known and can start over?”

“What? In this dinghy?” The gruffness in his voice reminded me of when we first met, of cobblestone courtyards, day lilies, and watery, summer skies. The sudden urge to capsize the boat seized me. I shook with it. He saw the savage working of my jaw. I let go of his hand and clenched my fists on my lap. Something thawed in him like the earth in spring. Leaning forward, he pinched my chin with his thumb and fingers. “How are you so beautiful? You’re more impossibly fantastic than a mermaid.” His words didn't soothe me, but I leaned over so my head rested on his chest anyway. We were making a mess of the night. I tried to focus on finding his heartbeat, tried to let that make it better. I watched my own hand stroke the ‘V’ of flesh and fuzz at the opening of his shirt by his neck.

“Don’t you know?” I whispered and my skin on his was paler than the moon.

“What?”

“This is all I will dream from now on,” my words rushed from me. “Every word, every oath, every sermon you’ve ever uttered, has become my own skeleton. You scaffold my soul.”

When he kissed me, the salt of our tears mingled with the salt in the air and the salt he kissed earlier off of my skin.

“And from now on, when I taste salt, it will be you,” he said. A faint rumble of thunder disrupted our vows. “We should go back,” he said and started to row.

“It sounds far away,” I said. “Just a bit longer?”

“We don’t want to get caught out here in a storm.”

“A few more seconds,” I put my hand on his knee and he stopped rowing. He took off his glasses and wiped them on the hem of the plain, gray shirt he was wearing. He put them back on and pushed them up on his nose in a gesture that was so familiar to me, I’d started to believe it was my own.

Nodding his head, he whispered, “I do know.” His shoulders rose and fell in a deep breath. It was all he offered me before he began rowing again and I knew better than to say anything else. As we headed to shore, I could tell he forced himself to ignore the quake of my shoulders as I looked away from him and cried. The air was heavy but it didn’t start to rain and there wasn’t any more thunder.

The note I found the next morning, tucked under one of my windshield wipers said, _It was exactly how I imagined it. I am so sorry._


	2. Chapter 2

I knew the secret of hell.

It was smug to possess such knowledge at the tender age of twenty four, made doubly so by the fact no one else seemed to know it but me. Or maybe no one else wanted to know it. 

It resided in the slick pinkish-gray coils of my brain as a pearl sat within the meat of an oyster.

And like a pearl it grew.

His breath was warm, but his tongue licked the shell of my ear like a flame. He burned me everywhere. “Now, do it now.”

I held off to spite him.

Twisting my face back, I nipped his lips. He tried to pull away. I persisted. “Kiss me,” I demanded. “I won’t come for you unless you kiss me.”

He growled and sucked my lips.

Maybe I was born with darkness in my soul, or maybe I learned it with him during all our furtive moments. He said his soul was stained with me, with his need and desire for me. I did not believe in god, but it did seem a force greater than ourselves compelled our bodies into awkward positions in cramped spaces. Either way, he could have pushed me away, refused to kiss me. He could have dredged his hand from my pants. But he did not. We kissed. We kept going. 

He liked to hold me from behind, my back against his chest, his arms around my waist. He leaned on the edge of his desk and I against him. He’d thrust one hand down the front of my jeans, deep in my underpants. At twice my age, he had less experience than me, but his musician fingers were lovely and he played me like his piano or guitar. He'd learned quickly over the past year. 

“You make me come so much faster than I do to myself,” I gasped, and he moaned, not because it was a sin for me to touch myself, but because it frustrated him. It made him wild to even imagine it. I said it mainly to tease him, to make him bite my neck and pinch my nipple hard, under my blouse, over my bra. My neck ached with the strain of trying to kiss him. It distracted me temporarily from the pleasure he made between my legs, but difficult logistics only fueled my determination.

After a minute, he turned from my lips. He didn’t want to kiss me.

He rarely kissed me anymore. He could barely stand the sensation of my lips on his, let alone my tongue in his mouth. In those moments, I stole his breath, took all his power, made him rub himself off on my ass as he fondled my sopping cleft.

In his office, it was his prerogative to deny himself pleasure, even as he gave me mine. He’d petulantly refuse to talk to me for an entire week if I suffered him the humiliation of ejaculating in his pants, yet I seemed determined to do just that. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whimpered boisterously against his lips and rode his fingers until they were well inside me. I moaned loudly. He used his other hand to cover my mouth.

“Now. Baby, do it now. Do it for me, _Baby,_ ” he stuttered foolishly, but knew his words would render me helpless. Biting his hand, clenching my inner walls around his fingers, I shattered. My backside juddered over his cock. He grunted softly. He clutched me tight around my waist as his seed filled his boxers.

For several long moments, we hung suspended as our pleasure whipped us raw. That was my favorite part, the way his body slackened against mine, the way our breath synchronized and everything seemed to slow even as our hearts raced to catch up from the beat they missed.

Turning, I looped my arms around his neck. “Imagine if we did that in a bed? Without all these annoying clothes?” I kissed his lips and in his weakened state, he permitted it. I licked the line right below where his beard ended and his collar began. As soon as his breath steadied, he pushed me away.

“Light of my life, fire of my loins,” he sighed.

“I thought I was your _baby,_ ” I said. “God what that does to me. How come you only call me _baby_ now when we’re fucking?” He scowled at me and shrugged.

He walked around to the other side of his desk, putting a barrier between us. He shifted uncomfortably and I imagined the trickle of semen on his inner thigh, a place I suddenly yearned to touch.

“What is this?” I cocked my head to indicate the music he’d turned on as a sound screen for our exertions.

“Violin Concerto in D Major, Beethoven,” he muttered.

“Cheerful,” I listened to a few bars. “Does Tracey actually think you’re teaching me music theory in here?”

“We need to hope she does,” he looked down and arranged some papers and books on his desk. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I have a meeting.”

“Cool. I have a class.”

“I’ll pray for you,” he offered with a sad rise of his eyebrows.

“Waste of breath,” I scoffed and zipped my jeans. “You know I don’t believe in any of that.” I puckered my lips and blew a kiss over my shoulder before I cantered out of his office, calling a chipper farewell to his secretary over my shoulder. It was a feat of strength to keep my feet moving to my car, to not turn around and run back into his black, woolen-clad arms that I knew still smelled of me.

 _Had he turned the music off, or did he press repeat and listen to the Concerto again?_ I searched for it in the music app on my phone and turned it up loud in my car as I drove off.

I knew I wasn’t the devil; at least not any more than he was. Neither of us were psychotic or delusional. But I knew Hell existed, most surely as the sticky heat Father Gabriel Gideon had produced between my thighs.

Hell was not a burning pit of fire in the afterlife where bad people were punished. Hell was right here and right now, and it existed to torture halfway decent people like me and Gabe as we walked through our every day lives.


	3. Chapter 3

For over an hour, I’d sniveled at June’s kitchen table while she sculpted monsters out of clay.

She was working on art homework.

I was drunk on vodka and fruit punch.

Ten days passed since the “music theory lesson” in Gabe’s office. Ten days, during which I listened to Beethoven and compulsively checked to see if he’d messaged me. I tried calling twice, but he didn’t answer or return my calls. While I didn’t want to appear desperate, I was. While it wasn't abnormal for him to go dark for several days to a week after seeing me, ten days was a new record. 

Sunday morning made eleven days and out of practically wild desperation, I attended mass. I found a discreet spot, but when the organ music cued the processional, the choir and crucifers filled the center aisle, and there was no sign of him.

Frustrated, I slipped from my pew and stalked the building on the premise of looking for the Ladies Room, but couldn’t find him anywhere. Up and down the gray halls I paced, peeking into Sunday school classes and pondering my next play while surly looking kids memorized the Apostle’s Creed and preschoolers made crosses out of macaroni and glue.

I left the church and drove to his home. His car was not parked in its usual spot in front of his cottage. I waited a half hour, left and then returned several hours later. He still was not there. He’d disappeared.

I considered calling his secretary and asking whether or not my music lesson was cancelled because Father Gabe hadn’t been at mass, but that seemed precariously out of bounds, even in my un-boundaried and frantic state. Should he reappear, I did not want him to be upset with me for ringing alarm bells all over his parish.

“He certainly knows how to make a mess of things, this guy,” June said as she used a plastic blade to carve out an eye socket. Satisfied with her progress, she looked up at me. “How does one even get into a situation like this? Like seriously, Lucy.”

“Shit happens,” I slurred.

“Well it certainly does to you anyway. So explain this to me again- he’s pissed with you because he had an orgasm while you were having sex? How does that work?” She seemed legitimately confused.

“Can we order Thai?” I asked, completely neglecting her question. She shrugged and returned to her sculpture. I dug the menu out of her drawer of weird and random things and tried to focus on it while she contemplated colors and patterns for her creature.

“You decide on anything?” She asked without looking up.

“Huh?”

“Food? Did you decide what you want?”

“Oh, no. I don’t know if I can actually eat.”

“Given the amount of vodka you’ve consumed, you should eat. But get something bland for the love of art. Maybe some rice dish.”

I grumbled again that I didn’t think I’d really want to order anything. “You know what you’re in the mood for?” I pushed the menu toward her. She carefully set her sculpture on its stand and arched her back in a big stretch.

“I’m in the mood for a smoke,” she said. She grabbed my drink and took a hefty swig. “Dang, girl, you have a little vodka with your juice or what?”

“Shut up,” I laughed.

“Come on the porch with me,” she said as she got up and dug a pack of American Spirits from the pocket of her overalls. She stuck one in her mouth. “You want?” She mumbled around the cigarette as I followed her out to her third floor porch.

“I shouldn’t,” I demurred, but was already reaching for the pack. “It pisses him off to taste smoke on me.” My words gushed, stupid and drunken. June raised one solitary brow in utter judgement as she flicked her lighter and light her and my cigarettes.

“You’re seeing him tonight?”

“Fuck, no. I told you, he’s gone. Like missing.”

“Perfect, treat yourself then,” she said. “But really, Lulu, don’t worry so much. Maybe he just had some vacation time or something? Maybe he had a family member who got sick and needed to race out of town? There could be a million other reasons.”

“He doesn’t have family,” I argued.

“Could he have gone to give someone last rites at the last minute?”

“For almost two weeks?”

“Okay, well, didn’t you tell me he’s done this before for no reason other than his profound and paralyzing guilt for abandoning his God and church?” She had a point, but I preferred not to admit it.

I blew a plume of smoke into the chilly spring air. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Yes you do. You came here in a big fucking mess of anxious angst. What the fuck? Is it over or not? Cuz like I thought it was over, Lu.” June stood with a hand on her hip, cardigan open over her overalls, looking way older and wiser and more earth mothery than seemed reasonable.

“I get it, you hate him,” I said and leaned over the porch railing. A group of students walked past below passing a blunt between them. The skunky fragrance wafted up and I wrinkled my nose, turned back to June.

“I don’t hate anyone,” June said. “But I’m not a fan of all this,” she waved her hand in front of me. “I’ve told you before that your whole obsessive woman on a mission thing is not one of your better qualities when it comes to completely toxic relationships.”

“Dunno if I’d call it toxic, exactly,” I groused.

“Ummmkaaayy. You do you, but like really, Lulubelle, you’ve been doing this weirdness with this guy for almost a year now and where’s it going to end?” When I didn’t answer, she continued. “You’re actual perfection and you could have any man or woman on the planet. What’s this guy got on you? He’s super unhealthy, babe. I thought your therapy would have taken by now.”

"Jenny says these things take time," I whined.

"Yeah, while you're giving it _time_ , you're continuing on a super unhealthy path."

“Drinking and smoking isn’t healthy. Getting knocked up at eighteen wasn’t good for me. I don’t have the best track record with good decisions if you haven’t noticed,” I said. The conversation was making me irritable and the vodka was making me maudlin. I wanted to run after the boys with the blunt, flirt a bit and ask if they’d smoke me up. I wanted oblivion. I could hear my therapist telling me I was _seeking dissociation_. I shook my head to rid it of her voice. 

“True story,” June said and finished her cigarette. She stamped it out in a purple ceramic ashtray she’d made in high school and was unflinchingly proud of. “You gonna be a movie star with that thing and hold it all night looking glam, or you gonna finish it?”

“I’m gonna finish,” I said and took an aggressive drag to make my point.

June rolled her eyes. “Alright, well, great convo, but I’ve gotta finish that monster if I want to get a jump on the stop motion animation before the end of my natural life.”

“Have I mentioned how crazy you are?”

“You have. And you’re slurring, so you should probably crash in my bed for a while. Put on some Bowie or Cocteau Twins, have a couple gummies, and ride the wave,” she winked.

“Nah, girl, I’m good. Really. I’ve got an exam to proctor in the morning. But I will take a couple gummies for the road, if you don’t mind.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am,” I winked back at her. “Poor decisions, remember?”

“Ooookay, cool, but I will only let you leave this apartment if you swear you don’t go over there. No more stalking. I’m begging.”

“Promise,” I said and stuck my pinky finger up to wrap around hers. As soon as I was on the street, I texted,

_Hey you._

My heart leapt at the three dots wiggling as he texted his response. But then they stopped and there was no text sent. I walked to the first corner, where I checked my phone. Still no reply. My apartment was about a twenty minute walk from June’s and I must have checked my phone every three seconds. I got all the way to my apartment, and he still hadn’t responded. I sent another text.

_. . . hey, you okay?_

I tried to picture what he would be doing. All my brain could come up with was him polishing the wooden pews of the church with Murphy’s Oil Soap, like the old ladies in that old commercial, so I gave it up. I went into my apartment and peeled off my clothes. When I’d gotten into a soft night shirt, I went to the drawer where I kept my cigarettes and lit one, along with a vanilla scented candle. 

Curled on my couch, I smoked, ate the gummies, and flipped through television channels while trying to ignore my phone.

I pecked out and deleted a half dozen texts.

My mind circled back to June’s question about how I’d allowed this to happen. How does anything happen to anyone? In my case, it was a clay pot of daisies outside an open church door. It was early summer. I happened to notice the flowers and went inside the church, not because I believed in God (I didn’t), or because I was looking for a new parish in which to pray (I most certainly was not), but because they looked welcoming and sweet and like something I needed.

Up and down the aisles of the large sanctuary I walked. Although I nurtured a deep resentment for organized religion, I respected the science of architecture, and admired the delicate art of stained glass windows, particularly one of Mary with her infant son. I sat in a pew in front of it and stared at it until my eyes blurred. It was a Wednesday evening, and several people were making confessions. I watched them go in and out of the confessional, watched them stop to pray penance.

On a whim, I got up and walked toward the rich, mahogany carved confessional. Despite my abhorrence for it, I’d been raised in the church by my devout grandmother after my parents left, so I knew the process. It wasn’t that I believed in it, but something compelled me toward the dark, velvet curtain after all the other people had left. The priest’s entrance was on the other side of the box, and couldn’t be seen from the parishioner’s side, so I’d figured he’d already taken his leave for the day. I pulled back the heavy curtain and entered. I even kneeled on the red pillow in front of the screen and looked around at the ostentatiously ornate carving of the little container in which I found myself.

I jumped when the priest pulled back the barrier. For some time I was silent, thinking maybe if we ignored each other he’d shut the screen and I could sneak back out. He spoke. “Have you come to confess?”

“I saw the daisies outside,” I whispered.

He cleared his throat. “Beg your pardon?”

I laughed, “Oh, isn’t that why I’m here?”

Ignoring my joke completely, he asked again, “Have you come to make a confession?” His voice was stern, but but not unkind.

I cleared my throat and swallowed, trying to figure if he would come after me if I just got up and walked out. I didn’t think so. It was a church not a police station, I rationalized.

But something else, some nagging curiosity, provoked me to stay right where I was. 

“Forgive me, Father,” I recited. “For I have sinned.”


	4. Chapter 4

He didn’t ask how long it had been since my last confession. In fact he was perfectly silent, so I figured I should continue talking. “Yeah, so anyway, I lost a baby.”

“Is that right?” His voice was almost flat, detached, but not exactly disinterested.

“Well, I mean, I didn’t actually _loose it_ loose it, as in I didn’t misplace it,” I babbled.

“Continue.”

“I was pregnant. And then I wasn’t.”

“You had a miscarriage?”

“I had an abortion.” It seemed the worst possible thing I could say to a priest in a confessional, just shy of cold blooded murder. The words were true, but I intended them to shock. I didn’t even know exactly why I lead with this information, or why I was talking to a priest on a Wednesday evening at all.

“I see,” he said. His calm tone disappointed me. “And are you repentant that you did this?”

“Umm, not exactly? I was young. But I’m sad about it, and confused. I think about it a lot.”

“Then why do you think you’ve come to confess this deed today?”

I heaved a huge sigh that came out as a raspberry through my lips and I prayed he didn’t think I farted. “I don’t even know,” I shook my head. “The daisies outside of the church reminded me of one day when I was pregnant and I just felt so lonely, so I came in and here I am.”

Another long, presumably contemplative silence followed my admission, during which I chewed the inside of my lip and traced the whorls of the carving inside the confessional with my eyes.

“Confession is a sacrament,” the priest stated at last. “It is a holy rite to seek forgiveness for one’s sins so one might be closer to our Lord and Savior. It is not a place to come for personal comfort or for vain communication.” Although his voice was soft, almost tender, his words stung. I suddenly wanted to go outside and pluck all of the daisies out of the pot. I imagined hurling big clumps of roots and dirt on the pristine, marble church steps.

“Cool. Well, I probably should have mentioned I don’t really believe in any of this Jesus shit anyway,” I snapped. “But thanks for listening.” I could practically hear the _thwap_ mud balls would make against the church door. I’d break the clay pot too, for good measure, leave it in massive shards on the steps.

“Can I offer you a referral for a therapist or a support group with whom you might better process your grief?” He asked.

“Nope. I’m good,” I stood and left the confessional, but I didn’t race out to vandalize the potted plant.

Taking a deep breath, I walked to the back of the church and took a seat. I waited five, ten minutes and then pulled out my phone to check my messages. I snapped a couple photos of stained glass to toss up on Instagram with **#religion** and **#whatafuckingsham** beneath them. After about twenty minutes, the priest came out of the confessional and strode to the altar, where he genuflected, bowed, and began turning pages of an enormous bible, marking them with thick, green ribbons.

While he wasn’t elderly, he definitely was older than me. His dark hair was thick and wavy at the back of his head, but a bit thinner on top. He had bushy eyebrows and a long nose upon which perched a pair of wire rimmed glasses. He pushed the glasses up repetitively. From a distance, I could not tell what color his eyes were, but I guessed they were brown. He had a full beard which sparkled on the sides with silver and made him appear even older (or at least I supposed it did).

Satisfied with whatever he’d done to the book, he closed it, made the sign of the cross again, and turned to come back down the alter steps.

His eyes met mine instantly. I sat frozen in my seat, wondering if he would know I was his final penitent of the day, the one who had crassly challenged him and then taken flight. But if he knew it was me, he did not indicate it in any way. He nodded his head in a completely bland manner and disappeared into another part of the church, behind the altar.

It didn’t occur to me to think about the encounter again for several weeks.

I was spending my summer writing a grant for a project I hoped to get funded at the university to help fund a doctoral program. I’d brought my laptop to a cafe where I found a table in a breezy courtyard. Having trouble focusing, I was resigned to give up and switch from iced tea to white wine when I looked up to find the server, and happened to spot a tall, broad shouldered man, just about to sit down at a nearby table. I almost didn’t recognize hm because he was wearing a green and blue striped polo shirt like a normal guy in the summer. It was open at the neck and the flash of flesh confounded me.

“Hey,” I caught his attention. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. You’re the priest, right? From St. Peter’s?”

“Guilty as charged,” he said with a smile.

“They let you dress like that on your day off?”

“Believe it or not, they do,” he said. He moved to the table closer to me. “Are you a parishioner at St. Peter’s? I’m sorry if I’m not recognizing you. I’m still rather new there and I haven’t memorized everyone’s names yet.”

“No, no I am definitely _not_ a parishioner,” I laughed.

“Ah,” he stroked his beard and looked confused. “Have we met?”

“I’m the abortion girl,” I said and his eyes snapped open wide. “I came and sort of tried to make a confession a few weeks ago.”

“Of course. I remember now. Daisies.”

“Yup. That’s me.”

“You must have another name besides Abortion Girl? Would you like to share it with me? Or should I just call you Daisy?”

“I do have a name, and while Daisy is lovely, my real name is Lucy.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Lucy,” he extended his hand which seemed massive compared to mine, and though he was gentle, I gave him the firmest handshake I could muster. “Father Gabriel Gideon.”

“Yikes, that’s a mouthful!”

“True story. Most people just call me Gabe.”

“Fair enough, Gabe,” I laughed and noticed his eyes weren’t just brown, but more of a rich amber, like honey right out of a hive. The server arrived at my table and I ordered a sauvignon blanc. “Join me,” I suggested with a shrug.

“I will join you on one condition,” he said.

“And that is?”

“That you don’t think I’m trying to convert you.”

“I mean, you couldn’t if you tried, but okay,” I moved my laptop to make room at the table for him. When the server returned with my wine, I also ordered a cheese plate and hummus dip. The priest said he’d have whatever wine I was having.

“It’s a little early in the day for me, but what the heck,” he said.

“Please, it’s after three and you guys start drinking at like nine in the morning in church,” I scoffed. His eyes darted back to the table from where he came so I softened my tone, “I’m sorry. I have a very dry sense of humor. It takes people a minute or three to get it.”

“No worries,” he said. He had a newspaper folded in his lap and he set in on the chair between us. “So, you come here often?”

“Often enough. I like coming here to work when the walls of my apartment start closing in.”

“And what is it you do for work, Lucy?” He seemed to be putting on some sort of act, like an old timey pastor tending to a strayed member of his flock. It annoyed me instantly. My eyes flashed to a bed of fiery orange day lilies and for a moment I contemplated asking him to leave.

“I’m a post grad instructor at the local university. Currently I’m writing a grant to support a project I want to work on over the next semester.”

“What’s the project?”

“It’ll probably sound boring as hell,” I said, then quickly added, “as heck, sorry.” The server set his wine and our cheese board in front of us. She also placed a plate with a bright red pepper sliced open, filled with fresh hummus, and surrounded by grilled pita and veggies. I plucked a carrot and dunked it in the hummus, parting the glossy little pool of oil and flakes of red chili on top.

“Try me,” he shrugged.

“Okay, well, I’m studying internal organs of octopus, but trying to find ways to do it without harming them. I’m sort of obsessed with octopus. It’s weird, I know. My graduate degree is in marine biology but I am partnering with a couple of artists to bring awareness to this unique species and their relevance to scientific research. Somewhere along the line, I got distracted from the hard science and became really seduced by the poetry and art of this animal.” I stopped talking and looked from the day lilies to his face to see if he was laughing at me. He was not. I crunched into my carrot.

“That’s incredible,” he said. He lifted his glass of wine and held it aloft. “Here’s to you and your octopus,” I touched my glass to his and then drank half of my wine in one sip while trying to read his face. I watched his jaw work in tidy, circular motions as it chewed a piece of bread and cheese.

“I dunno if it’s incredible _per se_ ,” I said. “It’s the latest and greatest thing to pair hard science with art. There are a few aquariums around the country that are interested in our work. So, I’m giving it a whirl.” I shrugged and pinched an olive which I quickly popped into my mouth.

“What did you study for undergraduate?” He asked.

“You wanna guess? Cuz you will literally never guess in a million years.”

“Hmmm, theology?”

“Hah! No, good guess, but no. I majored in theater and poetry.” I briefly explained the bizarre detour my life took after college, trying not to get into anything too dramatic, trying not to think about the third floor apartment and the fish tank and the pitch black bathroom.

“You grow up here?” He asked after a while.

“More or less,” I said. “But you’re not from here, are you?”

“Is it that obvious?” He shared with me he was from Pittsburgh and had traveled around the world after attending school at Princeton.

“Why the seminary?” I asked.

“A whole bunch of reasons. I wanted to make a difference in the world, but mostly it made my grandmother proud. She raised me and it was either the collar or music school. I got into Juilliard, but the church seemed a safer choice.”

“What do you play?” I asked as opposed to asking him why he had a lifelong aversion to fucking.

“Little of this, little of that,” he seemed shy. “Mostly violin and piano, although I always fancied myself a guitar player like Clapton or Dylan,” he must have seem me look down and bite my lip because he added, “I suppose I’m dating myself here, but they are classics.”

“Well, I mean, they aren’t Mozart,” I said and he chuckled. “But I’m addicted to music. I’d love to hear you play sometime.”

We drank three glasses of wine each and I was comfortably numb by the time we asked for the check. I grabbed it before he could even attempt to pay. “Please, this is on me,” I said and he shifted awkwardly in his seat. “As a welcome to town and all.”

“I will send my gratitude to the chamber of commerce for your hospitality, Lucy,” he said, and maybe it was the wine, but his voice seemed to wrap around my neck like a cashmere scarf.

“It’s a funky town, but it’s nice,” I said. “Let me know if you need any other recommendations.”

“Actually,” he said. “I’d love to know if there is any decent sushi around here. I’ve been so long away from the ocean, and now that I’m back, I am suddenly struck with craving.”

“Yeah, we’ve got that. There are some pretty good places. I’ll give you all the insider tips, Gabe. I might even show you around, but I refuse to be there if you eat tako,” I said.

“You’ve got a deal. Absolutely zero tako will be consumed in my eating of sushi. It’s too chewy anyway.”

I tried to make my smile look friendly and not skeptical, but my brain was processing a mile a minute that I’d just shared cocktails and a gourmet cheese board with a priest. It wasn’t what I imagined when my day began, but I found I didn’t mind it so very much. “Um, question for you?”

“Sure. Shoot.”

“What did you think? After my confession?”

“Well, it wasn’t really a confession, was it,” he stated simply. I thought he’d leave it at that, but he added, “I’m glad you’re more than just that moment. It’s good to know you, Lucy.” I watched him walk down the street. His quick pace was clipped and strange; his torso seemed to lead the rest of his body. I kept expecting him to be plump or at least chunky, because he seemed so large, but his broad shoulders tapered to a very trim waist and square hips. I watched him until he disappeared around a corner and I couldn’t see him any longer. I watched the spot where he disappeared until it felt like someone else was watching, and I needed to look up at the street sign to remind myself where I actually was, and that I was real, and that it was a particular day in time and not a pocket of the past come back to haunt me.

“I’m more than a moment,” I whispered as I let myself into my apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live and breathe for comments and kudos, so if you are so inclined, I would adore hearing from you. . .


	5. Chapter 5

“Lululemon, are you coming to brunch with us,” June asked over the phone. “Todd and Thadd wanna try that new place over the bridge that has the pitchers of mimosas.”

“Um, I can’t. I have this thing.”

_More than just that moment._   
_Struck with craving._   
_Commerce for hospitality._

The priest’s words swirled in my mind like a mobius strip of poetry. I couldn’t stop it, even when I took a frigid shower and drank black coffee and went running and counted to a thousand.

“You have a thing? On Sunday morning? What the actual fuck, Luce? Have you started going to church?”

“Fuck no,” I said. “I have a face time meeting with the grant guys. We’re in crunch time because the semester is so close to starting. How about drinks later this afternoon?”

“Dang, girl, you’re gonna make me be the third wheel to Todd and Thadd? You know how they get."

“I know, Boo, I’m so sorry. If there was any way around it, I would be your plus one in a heartbeat.”

“Okay, well you better look fucking gorg for drinks later and I might need to see your boobs.”

“June. Oh my gee.”

“Just a lil bit. Tis only fair!”

I was still in bed when I hung up with her. I rolled over and bit my forearm. Not hard enough to bruise, just hard enough to pinch and give me a little reality check.

The truth was, I was going to church.

Maybe it was the wine, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the priest, and I wanted to see him in his natural habitat. Maybe I was curious. Maybe I was crushing just a little bit. He had an older, shaggy, serious thing going for him that captivated me.

“Oh, Father,” I exhaled against my arm and felt my hot, stale, sleepy breath beat back at me. I thought about his eyes, how he squinted in the sun as he looked at me over his glass of wine. I imagined us at the cafe table. I imagined me standing and straddling his legs, cupping his face and licking his lips with my wine drenched tongue. What would he do? Would he shiver against me and get hard between my legs? I supposed he would. The thought made me wet.

I brought his hand to my breast and undid his pants, took out his cock and lowered myself onto it. It was so thick I needed to stay perfectly still for a minute to adjust to it. It felt like it was stroking the marrow of my bones as I started to move up and down on him.

“You should stop, we can’t,” he whispered.

“I don’t know why I can’t stop,” I moaned into my pillow and reached down to touch myself. I closed my eyes and the rich, raw honey of the priest’s gaze filled my field of vision. “Feel how wet I am,” I bade him and started to circle my clit. I wondered what he’d want to see, if he was watching me, and so I bit my lip and pulled up my sleep shirt, flicked my finger over my nipple and grabbed my breast in my hand.

I pumped up and down on his cock and let him stroke and kiss my breasts. He told me things like he’d never seen anyone like me, and he’d never felt anything like what it felt like inside me. He was going to come fast and hard. Stroking my face, kissing my jaw, he asked if he could come inside of me and I said yes. “Yes, yes, yesyesyes, _oh fuck ohfuckohgodfuckyes_!” I screamed into my pillow as I climaxed on my fingers.

Looking at my clock, I realized I’d need to jump in the shower if I wanted to make it to mass on time.

I watched him process dow the aisle in green and silver vestments and felt like I was a child watching a parade. While the skeptic in me could not get past the cultist aspects of the service, the theater geek in me certainly appreciated the drama of candles and incense, and the deep, dark mystery of hymns. Watching him move around the altar seemed voyeruistic, and my cheeks burned even as I couldn’t tear my eyes away. He raised and lowered his hands in prayer in a sort of dance. I was enrapt. When he sang the psalms, I sat forward on the edge of my pew and looked around me, wondering that all of the other parishioners weren’t as completely engaged in the spectacle as I was. I actually saw a man glancing at his phone, and was sorely tempted to get up and poke him in the ribs, but I sat on my hands and watched as Gabe took his throne to listen to some lesser priest read the lessons.

When he read the Gospel, he walked precariously close to me down the aisle. I hunched my shoulders and prayed he wouldn’t notice me, standing there, listening to the raw honey of his voice as it brought life to the words on those dead pages. As though somehow he'd know I'd been thinking of him in my bed just an hour ago. 

He gave a sermon about boats and fishing and about how people seem to not come to church in the summer. I left before communion, but I went back again the next week and the week after. On the third week, I stayed until the end of the mass and waited until almost all of the people had left the church. He stood on the steps outside, greeting his congregation, wearing the same heavy green and ivory cloaks.

“Hi,” I said and squinted in the bright day.

“Lucy,” he said and shook my hand. His hand was sweaty and his forehead glistened too. “I thought it was you. I thought maybe I was seeing things. We aren’t making a believer out of you, are we?”

“God, no,” I huffed, but I smiled. “I just wanted to see you.” He looked confused and I felt ashamed. “I mean, I had those sushi recommendations for you,” I quickly rebounded.

“You could have called my secretary with those,” he said and my face fell. “But I’m so happy you came to tell me in person,” he added and invited me back to his office. “I have to get out of these robes before I melt into the marble.”

I followed him down the side of the church and into the office behind the altar. I watched him carefully peel off his emerald chasuble and kiss the gilt cross embroidered on it. He then shucked off the white robe, hung it in a closet with other liturgical garments, and stood before me in a short sleeved black shirt, white collar, and black pants. He turned on a fan and poured himself some water from a glass pitcher on his desk. “Ahh,” he sighed. “So, here I am. Mister Black and White at your service.” It was an awkward bit of humor. I didn’t like it, so I ignored it.

“The Bento Box is amazing for sushi. They have a great special on the weekends for both vegetarian and not vegetarian options, if you’re up for it,” I suggested.

“Oh,” his voice fell flat. “Well it sounds nice, but I can’t today. I have a brunch with the Collinson’s and then I have to meet with a couple for their prenuptial consultation.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” I brushed it off. “I didn’t mean we would go together today. I’ve got a full schedule as well. I just wanted to let you know what was available in town.”

“Good, okay. Well it was so good to see you and I am flattered that you came to mass, Lucy.” When he said my name, my abdomen tightened and flipped over on itself, like it was trying to escape my body. I wanted to ask him what he was doing to me, but I didn’t. I hoped he’d try to shake my hand at least, but he didn’t do that, so I simply shrugged awkwardly and said I had to go.

Walking out of the humid church, part of me wanted to go and sit in the confessional, just because it was a small space in which my brain couldn’t get too far beyond me. And also because it was where we first met.

But I didn’t.

I went home. I went home and I drank a bottle of wine and I googled “priest porn”. I skimmed a dozen different videos, but found none of it even remotely arousing. I had a buzzed call with the grant guys and then fell asleep for a while. When I awoke, somehow, it was twilight and I went out to the Bento Box by myself. I sat at the sushi bar. I drank chilled saki from a small cedar box and tried to feel alive and not so entirely alone. Opening my mouth to bite a tender piece of yellow tail, I moved my eyes to the door. I was certain he’d walk in. I was certain he’d never have seen sake served in wooden boxes before and I’d tell him how it was typical. In my mind he leaned back in his chair and wondered at how wise beyond my years I was.

But he didn’t find me at the sushi bar. I finished my meal and went home alone. I woke in the morning with a vicious headache and couldn’t write until noon.


	6. Chapter 6

Thinking about him didn’t make sense. Perseverating about him made even less sense.

But I could barely scribble a sentence without hearing the friction of his fingers scratching his beard. I got up from my computer and paced my apartment. I remembered the opening of his shirt at the cafe, and the dissonance of that patch of skin with his fully robed priest body banged around in my head. It disgusted me, even as I paused in my hallway, leaned against a wall, fingered three climaxes, then doubled over and panted, “Gabriel,” until my throat was hoarse.

I washed my hands and returned to my desk, but writing eluded me.

An internet search provided a sanitized photo on the St. Peter’s website, with a mundane biography about how Father Gideon had served abroad in Italy, did mission work in Mexico, and returned to the East Coast several years ago to fulfill his vocation at home. I bit my nails as I looked at the photo and wondered if he wore his clerical uniform to sup with the Collinson’s or if he wore a normal striped polo shirt, like the one he wore when I met him in the cafe.

My phone buzzed and I jumped. It was Raffe, letting me know he had some mock ups for the proposal and when could we meet. I texted him back and closed the window on my browser that displayed Gabe’s photo. Shame flooded me with uncomfortable heat. I slammed my laptop shut like a shell, and got dressed to go for a run.

Running has always cleared my mind. I blast music and the combination of heavy beats and my pounding breath forces an almost euphoric state. I know part of it is science; the biological high that comes from the endorphin rush generated by physical exertion. But there’s another part of me that just feels like I’m flying or floating and even if it is science, it takes me beyond my body and connects me to something deeper in the universe. I’m not a sprinter. I’m like to set a steady pace and see how far it can take me.

I’d plotted a familiar circuit around the village that measured about seven miles from my apartment and back again. To go out to the church added another mile, but I did it almost without thinking.

No. That’s a lie.

I was thinking about Gabe the entire run. Even though music blared in my earbuds, I was preoccupied, wondering what music he liked, what he’d think of a certain lyric, if he’d heard of a musician I enjoyed. By the time I reached the church it was nearly dusk. A woman walked down the front steps and I realized it was Wednesday. I paused my music and shoved my phone into the pocket in my leggings. Catching my breath, I rationalized there was no way I could even know it was him hearing confessions this evening. A church this large had to have at least three or four priests sharing this responsibility.

I waited for the pews to empty before I made my way behind the curtain. I didn’t kneel. I sat on the little wooden bench. The screen opened. “Hey,” I said softly. “It’s me.”

“Daisy?” He was using his monotone, detached confessional voice, but he used it to call me something special, a name he himself had christened me. My chest physically contracted and my heart did something it had never done before, like it was suddenly too large to fit within the slender cage of my ribs. I thought maybe I’d damaged it running, and then I realized the rest of my body had filled with a cool breeze, like I was standing inside out in a cave of myself. None of my pieces seemed to fit were they were supposed to. For a moment, I ceased to make sense. I wondered if I was having a stroke and was horrified by the thought of my friends finding their adamantly atheist friend died in a church.

“Ummm, yup,” I said. My voice worked, properly so I tried it again, “It’s me.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” I breathed out. My vision was blurry, but my pieces seemed to be settling back into place. I recognized the desire to hear him call me Daisy again, then I thought maybe he’d simply called me that because he’d forgotten my real name.

“I think you do,” he said. “What brings you to the House of God this evening?” It seemed unfair he got to sit and recite his lines without seeming to care at all about what the actual human body in the adjacent cabinet. I moved around, trying to see through the screen. All I saw was his shadow, sitting straight against the wall behind him.

“I touched myself,” I blurted.

“Well, that’s a confession I suppose,” he said stiffly. “If it is your intent to confess?”

“No,” I breathed and knelt before the screen. I moved as close as I could and whispered, “I thought about you.”

“This is not appropriate,” he said. He sounded angry and I instantly regretted my words.

“I know. I’m sorry,” I said and sniffled. I was going to cry and it was going to be ugly.

“You are forgiven,” he said. “I will pray for you.” He shut the screen between us and I heard him leave his side of the confessional. Dropping my head into my hands, I sobbed on the cool floor.

“What the fuck,” I whispered. “What is even wrong with you. What the fuck have you done you fucking idiot!” I scratched the inside of my arm, trying to calm myself enough to stand. A beam of light disrupted my crying, as the curtain of my cell parted. Gabriel stood in the opening of the confessional, one hand holding back the curtain, the other hand extended to me.

“Come on,” he said. I hugged my knees, convulsing in tears on myself. “Get up, Lucy. Come on.” He stepped into the box and reached down for me. I took his hand and he pulled me up with formidable strength. He pulled me into his arms and held me against his chest. I tried to push away.

“Stop. You don’t have to do this. I’m fine. I’m going.” I muttered and wiped my nose on the sleeve of my sweatshirt. “God I’m so fucking embarrassed.”

“Don’t be,” he said and embraced me again. “You’re alright.” He stroked my back and kissed my forehead. “Here, come over here,” he led me out to a pew and had me sit. He found a box of tissues and handed it to me. Putting an arm over the back of the pew, he waited patiently for me to collect myself. “Now, what are you doing here?”

“I really don’t know.”

“You’re a bright woman, recent events notwithstanding, so I believe at least a part of you must have an inkling.”

My eyes sought the details in the stained glass of the windows nearest us. I tried to get lost in the way the artist had brought texture with color to the women’s clothing. I wanted Gabe to be holding me again. I realized that when he’d been doing it, I was so distracted, I didn’t even get to enjoy it and now it was over and would probably never happen again because I’d completely sabotaged any chance of anything. He was still waiting for me to say something. “The first Sunday I came here,” I began slowly. “You gave a sermon about a boat.”

“I remember,” he said when I paused.

“I know it was meant allegorically, or whatever, but it made me think, made me wonder. . .” I trailed off and gulped to fill my lungs then exhaled a shuddering sigh.

“What did it make you wonder?”

“It made me wonder what it would be like to be out on a boat,” I shrugged.

His face wrinkled in confusion. “You’ve lived here all your life and you’ve never been on a boat?”

“No,” I sniffed out a laugh. “Of course I have been on many boats. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that boat you spoke about and what it would be like to be on it with you.”

“I see,” he said. He looked toward the altar.

“Do you know how annoying it is when you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Say you see, like you understand all the undercurrents of pain and longing in the world and all the secrets of the universe, even though only a simple statement was said.”

He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth for a moment, distorting his face so he looked more beard than man. When his lip came back out, it was pink and moist. “You know, Lucy,” his voice bordered on cross. “I could say it is equally annoying when you pop up in my confessional and distract me with completely inappropriate and out of context declarations.”

“That’s valid,” I muttered. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

“Were you out running?” He asked before I could stand. His eyes traveled from my light sweatshirt, down my leggings to my sneakers.

“Awesome deductive reasoning skills,” I smiled. “I was.”

“You listen to music when you run?” The sudden change of subject threw me. I told him I did and patted the phone I’d stashed in my pocket. “What were you listening to?”

“Seriously? You interested in that or are you asking because you feel bad for me and want to keep me here until you’re sure I’m not going to jump off a bridge or something?”

“Are you going to jump off a bridge?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then let’s assume the musician in me is definitely interested in what you were listening to while you were running.”

“Oh, I forgot. Okay, well, let’s see.” I plucked my phone out and opened the music app then flipped through the playlist to which I’d most recently been jogging. I rambled off a list of names: Lorde, Sia, the Kills, Florence and the Machine, Yaz, Bob Marley.

“That’s quite an eclectic mix,” he observed. “You ever try running to Beethoven?”

“No.”

“Give it a try sometime and let me know how you like it. But, I’m going to give you my number so you can call or text and so you don’t have to randomly defile the sanctity of my church when you want my attention.” He gave me the number and I put it in my contacts.

“You go running to Beethoven frequently?” I asked.

“Used to,” he sighed. “My knees don’t enjoy it as much as my brain does. I’m more of a low impact guy now. Kayaking, yoga, swimming. Don’t know if you noticed, but I’m old.”

“You’re hardly old,” I laughed. “I mean not like Methuselah old anyway.”

“Nice Biblical reference there,” he chuckled. “You want a ride home?”

“I’d actually love one,” I said. “I’m suddenly exhausted.”

“A good cry will do that,” he smiled gently. “Stay here. I’m just going to grab my keys and bag.” He left with that fast, torso-leading walk and I had the entire church to myself. I wandered over to a small chapel where an array of votives flickered away in red glasses on wire stands. The little flames wiggled hypnotically. The scent of meting wax was dreamy, comforting. “Prayers,” his voice startled me.

“I guess there’s a lot of people out there who want God to give them a bigger house, nicer car, or hotter spouse,” I rolled my eyes.

“There are just as many people who want their parent to beat cancer, or not to lose the small house they have, or for their significant other to come back from a military deployment,” he offered with a shrug.

“I see,” I said.

“How old are you, Lucy?”

“I was twenty three in February.”

“How does such a beautiful, delicate, brilliant woman have such a jaded heart at such a young age?”

“Are you asking how I got so fucked up?”

“No, I am not.”

“Well, it’s a long story, Gabe, but I can assure you I have earned all of this,” I swirled my hands in front of my chest and then up around my head, “more honestly than most.”

“I’d like to know,” he murmured and the candles reflected in his glasses so I couldn’t really see his eyes, just the illusion of him being lit up from within.

“Why?” My stomach felt hollow, filled with air that threatened to lift me up and carry me toward the vaulted ceilings of the church like a stray balloon. I tugged myself back down to the chapel.

“I’d like to know you,” Gabe said and he said it like it had just occurred to him and as though the thought confused him entirely.

“We might want to start with some casual lunch conversation in that case.”

“Light lunch fare seems at odds with your confessions.” He stroked his beard as if he were sincerely perplexed. “You are a strange girl, Lucy.”

“I’ve been called worse things,” I grinned. “Are you going to drive me home or what?”

He drove a clunky, old SUV that was very tidy inside. I gave him directions to my Poplar Street apartment, and within several minutes, we were parked outside of my place. “This is pretty,” he nodded at the pristinely refurbished 1800’s house where I occupied the first floor.

“Thanks. My grandmother left me pretty well set up, so I live a little more luxuriously than a lot of my grad school cohorts.” I licked my lips. “I actually own the whole house. I rent out the top floors, but I have a property manager who takes care of all of that. I don’t share that with a lot of people.”

“Why not?”

“I dunno. It’s kind of weird for a twenty three year old to own a whole freaking house in the historical district, isn’t it?”

“Well your secret is safe with me.”

“All of them?” I turned my body toward him in the car.

“Yes. All of them,” his voice seemed kind but I couldn’t read his expression and it frustrated me.

“So, when is our lunch date?”

“Soon,” he said. “I have some time coming up this week when I can sneak away, but Lucy,” he paused and turned toward me, “you understand I am a priest, right?”

“Uhhh, yeah?”

“Because I am, and I just want to make sure there isn’t any unevenness here, between us. After your confession-“

“Oh shit,” I interrupted him. “Forget that. Please. I was being provocative and stupid. I obviously didn’t mean it.”

“Good. I’m relieved,” he pushed his glasses up on his nose, although they didn’t look as though they’d slipped. “Have a good night, Lucy.”

“You too,” I said. Before getting out of his car, I reached over and rubbed my knuckles in the thick of his beard. It was scratchy and soft at the same time. I pulled my hand away quickly and hopped out before I could see if he was surprised or angry, or if he felt nothing at all when I touched him.


	7. Chapter 7

_Didn’t see you at mass this morning. . ._   
_missed you. Hope you’re well._

_Doing okay_ I texted back instantly.  
 _Had brunch with friends._  
 _You won’t see me at church every Sunday, I am a heathen, after all._

_Are you a heathen who enjoys kayaking?_

_Yes!!! When??_

_Weather is supposed to be good tomorrow._

_Awesome! I’ll make a picnic. . ._

Gabe and I had been sending short, friendly texts for a couple weeks. One morning I woke up and he had sent me a video of an octopus swirling her lovely arms in perfect spirals. I watched it for an absurdly long time, until he interrupted me by texting,

_made me think of you_

_Nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,_ I shot back with a series of heart emojis.

We had met for a brief and casual coffee at the cafe where we’d first shared our wine and cheese, but I hadn’t been back to the church, and something about having little nuggets of his attention lavished on me in discreet intervals took the gnawing eros out of my feelings for him. I began to lull myself into the idea we could be nice friends, close friends, but just friends- and I was accepting of that. I needed nothing more that the knowledge this avuncular older man would see an octopus dancing and think of me.

We paddled down a brackish river to the mouth of the bay and a found a secluded beach. He had been correct about the weather; the sky was clear and beamed with sun. After a month of severe humidity, it was a relatively dry day and the breeze off the water refreshed. We pulled the kayak up on the bank, climbed up a dune with some shady trees and I spread a blanket for our picnic.

“Mind if I take a swim first? I’ll be quick,” he asked. He was already taking off his glasses and set them on top of his day pack.

“Of course not. Enjoy.”

“Come with?”

“Nope, I’ll get us set up to feast.” From the blanket, I watched him walk to the water’s edge unbutton and remove his lightweight shirt. His bare back was broad and tan. He waded in and dove under a wave, momentarily disappearing from my sight. I squinted, eyes trained on the spot where he dove under and waited for him to emerge. For a while, he floated on his back. He looked almost boyish, kicking his long legs in the surf. It made me smile as I reached into our packs to pull out the fruit, bread and cheese I’d packed for us.

The sun glared off his glasses where he’d left them. I picked them up and held them gently in my hands, turning them over, opening and closing them, peeking through their lenses and blinking at the occluded view they offered. I held them until dripping and grinning, he walked back up to our spot. “Water’s amazing. You should go in,” he said and took his glasses from me.

“Maybe I’ll dip a toe in later,” I said and confided I was fairly phobic of swimming.

“How does that happen?” He asked.

“You sound like my friend June. She’s always asking me how I have these weird characteristics.”

“Yeah, but how is a marine biologist phobic of the water?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” I said and watched him thread his still wet arms back into his shirt. He left it unbuttoned. Droplets of ocean water sparkled on his chest hair which was evenly distributed over trim pectoral muscles. He seemed proud and comfortable in his body. He reclined on the blanket and popped a cherry into his mouth. I watched him chew it and spit the pulpy pit out in his fingers. Once again, I found myself wrestling with the fact the man lounging next to me was a priest, and that he was probably old enough to be my father. I chewed the inside of my cheek and convinced myself I was not attracted to him. The idea of it was mortifying.

“I get the impression everything is more complicated with you, Daisy,” there it was again, his special name for me. To hide my flaming cheeks, I busied myself with finding the bottle of wine I’d brought. I held it aloft and smiled.

“I picked this out special for our outing because we can’t have cheese without wine,” I said.

“Would be a sin,” he agreed. I handed him the travel corkscrew and the bottle. He opened the wine and poured our glasses. We toasted the day and chatted amicably. At one point he ate a morsel of one of the cheeses I’d procured and threw back his head. “Oh oh! Have you had this one yet?” He asked and picked up a bit of it.

“I have,” I said. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Try it with the apricot jam,” he swooned, and before I knew what was happening he’d plunked the cheese into the jam and held it up to my lips. I opened my mouth and accepted the piece of cheese. He followed it with a chunk of bread and a grape. As I chewed, a grit of sand from his fingers gathered in my back molars. It thrilled me.

“So, we’ve reached the point in our friendship where you’re feeding me like a baby bird,” I laughed with my mouth full. Between the wine and the sun I was happily buzzed.

“It’s a great picnic,” he said. “Thank you. Thank you for this beautiful day.” He looked up at the sky and I wasn’t sure at that point if he was talking to me or to his god. Either way, we chatted and ate as the sun summited and started to make its descent. He suggested a quick swim before we paddled back.

“You go ahead and I’ll pack up.”

“Come on. Come with me. I’ll keep you safe. Promise,” he held his hand out to me and pulled me up from the blanket. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I mean, I could drown and get eaten by sharks,” I said.

“I refuse to allow that,” he said. Reluctantly, I let him drag me down to the water’s edge. I took a step in and he touched my shoulder. “You need some more sunblock; you’re getting a burn.” He scooped a handful of water and trickled it over my arm. It felt amazingly good. I hadn’t even realized how hot I had gotten. I let him guide me until we were waist deep in the surf. The current had picked up a bit since our arrival.

“This is as far as I go,” I said.

“Okay, I’m going in,” he announced and started to walk from me into deeper water.

“What? No! You can’t leave me here!” I cried and he laughed at me. I grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward me. “I’m not playing!”

“Here, come here, couple more steps,” the water got suddenly much deeper and a wave drenched me to my shoulders. My heart started racing.

“Take me back,” I pleaded. Just then, a cooler current brushed around my ankles and I practically leapt, hands on his shoulders, into his arms. He caught me and held me sideways against his chest, like a child, an arm under my knees, the other cradling my back.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

“I told you! I told you I was scared,” my tears were instant, hot, and angry on my sea cooled cheeks. Breathing hard, I pounded a fist on his chest. “Fuck! Put me down.” He started to release me and I screeched. “No! Nonono!” He gathered me back to his body.

He hushed me and nuzzled my neck.

“ _Luciana_ , you’re safe. There’s nothing to hurt you. Open your eyes, look at me, see? There you are. I’m right here.” He kept talking like I was a toddler. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’d never do anything to hurt you.” While he spoke, he swayed in the water with me. He peppered my cheeks with little kisses. I felt light in his arms, practically floating. I looked up at him and his eyes were rich and full and I got stuck there. There was a whole world of blue sky and sea, but I was caught like a fly in his eyes. My arms had been awkwardly pinned between our chests, but I brought them now around his neck and caressed the back of his head. “ _Lucia_ , my light,” he whispered and I smelled wine on his breath. I touched the place behind his ears where his glasses would rest, and he closed his eyes and bit his lower lip.

“Don’t let go,” I said and he shook his head. “Don’t let go of me,” I repeated, my voice barely audible over the surf.

“No,” he pressed his forehead against mine. His eyes were closed. I kept mine open.

The kiss, when it finally happened, was short and almost chaste, compared to the heat of his arms holding me and rocking me in the cool waves. My lips brushed over his and suspended there for less time than it took the next wave to roll against our bodies. He pulled away quickly and started for shore with me in his arms. When he got to shallower water, he set me down and walked away from me, up to the blanket where he started packing up our things. Through the waves, I trudged after him.

We paddled back to the boat launch in a silence that felt awkward and sad. Several times, I tried to break it with an observation of a crane or a pretty cloud formation, but his responses were terse. He brought me to my car and we parted with stiff and formal goodbyes. It was as though we had left ourselves back in the waves, foreheads pressed together, in that moment just before we kissed.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, I woke desolate and aimless. It was another bright, perfect day, which for some reason pissed me off. My summer schedule was not rigorous or structured, which could be nice, but often left me floundering and anxious. I didn’t want to go to the beach. I didn’t want to work on grant proposals. There was nothing on TV and all my friends were working, traveling, or otherwise occupied with summer flings. I, on the other hand, was searching Reddit subthreads for “What happens when a priest kisses someone?” The hollow ache in my gut made me too distracted to read through all of the results, most of which seemed to be from Ireland for some reason.

It occurred to me to book a trip. I still had an account with some unrestricted funds from my grandmother, but I remembered my passport had expired several months ago. So, Ibiza was out of the question. Going anywhere else alone just seemed pathetic and pointless.

By noon, I was contemplating adopting a cat, or at the very least going to the pet store to check out what I’d need to stock up a new salt water tank.

Gabe had not texted or called. After the way we left things, I wasn’t surprised. I figured whatever we’d shared was done and gone and I’d never hear from him again. I set my mind to making peace with it.

I showered and started calling June to see if she wanted to get lunch, but I didn’t have it in me to explain why I was sunburnt and sulking. I needed to go to the pharmacy to get some aloe vera. As I passed my hallway mirror, the reflection I caught sight of looked familiar, but there was a darkness beneath my eyes that seemed to reflect a darkness knotted in my chest. My blonde hair was streaked platinum from being out in the sun without a hat. _Lucia, my light,_ he’d said. I wished I’d thought to ask him what he meant by that. I supposed now I wouldn’t get a chance. When he’d said it, my blood had raced, and now it seemed so sluggish and thick it could hardly make the journey through the caverns of my heart. None of it made sense. I piled my hair on the top of my head in a sloppy bun and walked away from the mirror.

Trip to the pharmacy forgotten, I flopped on my sofa and the thought struck me to cut off all my hair. I touched the back of my neck, wondering what it would feel like to have my hair shorn close to my scalp. Gabe’s hair had felt soft and was just long enough for me to twirl in my fingers. In the sun, reddish undertones glowed in the chestnut, and was balanced by subtle silver streaks at his temples. I’d been in such close proximity to him, it seemed I’d memorized every strand, every fleck of green and gold in his eyes.

When my phone buzzed, I didn’t even realize I’d floated away, on a tide of cool bliss, _his arms beneath my knees, around my waist, foreheads pressed close, fermented fruit of wine on our breath, perfectly still, trusting and forgetting everything else about me- every fear and flaw._

 _Gabe calling. ._ . the phone rudely brought me back from the beach.

“Hello?”

“Lucy, it’s Gabe.”

“Yup, the phone told me that. Hi.”

One of his contemplative silences ensued, followed by a heavy sigh. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” I lied.

“Really?”

“No. Actually, I’m really sad. Confused.”

“Lucy, about yesterday-“

“Please. Forget it. It’s nothing.”

“Can I finish?” He sounded irritated.

“Yeah. Sorry. Of course.” My mouth went dry. I walked to my kitchen to get some water. Opening my fridge, I contemplated the half consumed bottle of chardonnay, but decided it was absolutely too early.

“I think we should talk,” he said.

“You know, Gabe,” I balanced the phone in the crook of my neck while I opened the bottle of water. “Nothing good ever comes out of it for me when someone starts a sentence with _we should talk_ ,” I gulped the water. My throat struggled with the simple act of swallowing. “Why don’t we just let bygones be bygones.”

“Please, Lucy.” His voice shifted from irritation to pleading. I agreed to meet him at a park a short ways out of town. It didn’t surprise me he wanted to meet beyond his parish limits, but it did surprise me when he approached me with a fist full of bright, white daisies. He sat next to me and offered me the bouquet, which was tied with a green, brocade ribbon.

“These are beautiful,” I brought them to my nose and inhaled their delicate, slightly sharp scent.

“Don’t tell the Blessed Ladies Altar Guild,” he said. “I might have pinched them from their stash for this week’s arrangements.” He pushed nervously at his glasses. He wore regular clothes, a light blue button down shirt, untucked, and a pair of khaki shorts. His appearance didn’t compute with the fact he brought me stolen church flowers.

“Your secret is safe with me,” I laughed quietly. The sun passed behind a cloud and I removed my sunglasses.

“Hydrangea blue,” he said.

“Huh?”

“Your eyes. They’re the color of perfect hydrangeas.”

“Thank you. I mean, I guess that’s nice if you like hydrangeas?”

“I do. I like them a lot. They were my mother’s favorite flower. She died when I was very young. Cancer. My dad never really got over it and he disappeared into himself. I was raised mainly by my grandmother, who liked hydrangeas also, by the way. But that isn’t why I asked to meet you today, Lucy.”

I ran my tongue around in my mouth, trying to find some moisture to make words. “Okay. So why are we here?”

“I owe you an apology,” he stared straight ahead and laid his hands on his thighs.

“No, Gabe. You don’t.” I suddenly and profoundly wanted to be anywhere but there.

“But I do,” he insisted and angled his body toward me. He hunched over and lowered his voice. “It was wrong of me to try to drag you out into the water when you were scared. I knew. . . I was being vain; I wanted to be a hero or something. I knew what would happen, Lucy. I tempted it. I wanted it. And then holding you like that, it was so wrong, but I got swept away.” He paused and closed his eyes, shook his head as if trying to forget. For a moment I thought he might cry.

“It’s okay,” I rasped. “Really.”

He held up a hand to signal that I should stop talking. “You’re so young, so delicate. I never felt anything like what I felt when I held you. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the line the sun left on your shoulder,” he paused and inhaled as if gathering strength, “I asked you here because I have to tell you we can’t ever let anything like that happen again.”

“Right. Totally-“

“I have to tell you we cannot touch, I cannot hold you, we cannot be together, we cannot. . . kiss. I have made promises, vows.”

“I understand,” I whispered unclear as to why his tortured sermon was creating a hot swirl, low and heavy in my gut.

“I don’t think you do understand,” he said softly. “I should not see you anymore.” He looked around us then reached up and traced two fingers down the line of my jaw to my neck. He cradled my neck with his hand which was so large he could have easily crushed my throat right there.

But I wasn’t frightened.

He continued. “I have to tell you these things, I have to tell you I shouldn’t even hug you as a friend because it makes me feel things I am not supposed to feel. I cannot feel these things, Lucy!” He pounded his fists on his legs. “I have to tell you these things, and I have to abide by them.”

“Okay,” I said.

He touched my chin and looked around, smiled sadly at me. “I came here to tell you all this, and God help me, I meant to say my part and walk away.” He dropped his hand next to mine, and looked around anxiously again. His fingers landed on the bench very close to where mine gripped the edge of it. I moved my hand closer and touched his. He closed his eyes. “But now I’m near you and I want things I’ve never dared desire before,” he said.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“I think of you to distraction,” my voice was so small and strange; I wondered if it was really my own.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I feel the same. I’m the same as you, Gabe,” I shrugged. He opened his eyes and we seemed impossibly close.

“I don’t think I could get up and walk away from you if those bushes burst into flame and commanded it,” he sighed.

“What does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” he said and part of me wanted to suggest he was a smart guy and I bet he _really did_ know, but another part of me didn’t want to break the seal of the moment as we floated up in it above the park, away from our lives to another dimension where his hand covered mine and we were just there, being together. In front of us, there was a thick bed of bright red and purple impatiens. We stared at it, holding hands, trying to pretend it wasn’t even happening. A few minutes later, he walked me to my car and we shared an innocent embrace. “We’ll talk later,” he said.

I brought the flowers home and put them I a jam jar. They stayed bright and lively for about a week. I chose several of the blooms to press in a large textbook. I used the ribbon as a bookmark.

Like a precious relic, I'd preserve that length of ribbon until it was faded and frayed. 


	9. Chapter 9

From the park, Gabe returned to work. I wasn’t really sure what just happened, and I had no clue where it was headed, but holding hands with him seemed transcendental, like we were no longer who we thought we were. Driving back to my apartment, I felt sweaty and nauseous, like I was coming down with something contagious. I must have touched my phone a hundred times, checking for messages, and then reminding myself he was working.

I wanted to call and spill my guts to June, but it also seemed like something I had to keep secret.

Secrets were something I excelled at keeping. I could carry them around like an egg for weeks on end without making so much as a chip or a crack in their smooth and fragile surface. Of course, it helped if I stayed someplace dark and empty and isolated.

No one, not even June knew about the fish tank, shattering from the hurled vodka bottle that had just missed my head. No one knew how I hid in the windowless bathroom, clutching a knife in my shaking fist, completely silent as he searched for me but was too drunk to consider turning on a fucking light and tearing open the shower curtain.

Had he found me, I don’t think I would have killed him. I think I would have waved the knife at him or cut him just enough to get away. At least that’s what I tell myself, and I’ve told myself that often enough to believe it.

I’d never told a soul about the puddle of blood I left in his shower stall because I’d hemorrhaged when he insisted on fucking me less than 36 hours after the abortion.

I never told.

I crept out of the dark after he’d slammed away, and I never went back.

No one ever knew about the fish still flopping around in the watery gush on his living room carpet.

I never told. I moved back to my grandmother’s and found a new hobby that quickly became an obsession I was able to safely channel into a graduate degree. It was smart and time consuming. It kept the door quietly closed and safely locked. It kept me from wondering who picked up the fish or swept up the broken glass.

Shit like that seemed better kept quietly tucked away. Because if I were to talk about those things, they would be real, and they would poke holes in any chance I ever had to believe in love, let alone believe I was lovable.

Secrets I could keep.

Secrets were survival.

 _I miss you already_. . . I texted Gabe.

He sent back a simple daisy emoji. For an older man, his text game was strong.

I wondered what it would be like to tell Gabe my secrets, even as I kept his.

That night I fell asleep imagining him holding me in the ocean, swaying gently with me in his arms as bright blue fish darted around his ankles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. . . so if you have made it this far, thank you very much for reading my work. I adore connecting with readers and other writers, so if you are inclined to leave a comment, I would love to hear from you, and I almost always respond. 
> 
> From here on, things are about to heat up, so consider yourself warned and buckle up! xoxo.


	10. Chapter 10

We agreed to meet at a restaurant several towns over. It went without saying it would appear wildly inappropriate for him to pick me up at my apartment, or for me to show up at the church dressed for a date. I hadn’t been to the restaurant he chose, but I trusted his judgement. More than anything, I looked forward to being alone and near him.

I’ve never fussed much with my appearance. It drove June insane I could spend five minutes in front of the mirror and two minutes in my closet and be ready for a night in the city. She would have been shocked at the effort I put into my ensemble for my night with Gabe, but I wanted to look nice for him. On his part, a tremendous and unspoken compromise, possibly even a sacrifice was being made for me; so, I wanted to at least look special. After my shower, I dried and straightened my hair until it was long and fluffy. I thought about putting it up, but left it down, long around my shoulders. I rubbed peachy highlighter on my cheeks, smudged my eyelids with shimmery, copper shadow, and smeared bright cherry red on my lips. It was a more subtle look than my typical “night out” makeup when June and I went to the bars, but I still wondered if he would think I was a painted whore. I didn’t know if I hoped he would or wouldn’t.

His comment about my eyes and the hydrangeas reverberated, so I chose a halter, wrap dress in periwinkle blue that I knew accentuated them. It hit mid thigh, had a plunging neckline and open back. Made of a light silk, it hugged my curves, but had a graceful flow. As I grabbed my keys, I briefly considered tearing it off and putting on jeans and a tee shirt, because wearing something so sexy on a first date with a priest seemed scandalous.

_Was it even a date?_

My mind ran circles, trying to rationalize what was about to happen, trying to make it into something safe and sane. To compromise, I grabbed a lace shawl and threw it over my bare shoulders.

I arrived first, took a seat at the bar and ordered a gin and tonic while I waited for him. I was just about to find the bathroom to reapply my lipgloss when he entered the restaurant. He wore a sage green shirt, open at the neck, and dark gray pants. I breathed a mental sigh of relief he’d come in normal man clothes and not dressed as a priest. I don’t know what I expected, but he looked clean and handsome. Although he spotted me right away, I gave him a little wave and demure smile to let him know where I was. He stood a moment in the doorway, then walked over.

“Were you reconsidering?” I asked of his hesitation.

“Absolutely not. Just momentarily stunned,” he kissed my hand. “There is no way _you_ are waiting for _me_ ,” he shook his head, and grinned.

“Oh, but I am,” I said. I hopped off my barstool and my shawl fell from my shoulders. I put my arms around him and hugged him. The material of his shirt felt expensive and he smelled like a deliciously complex blend of lavender, cedar, and amber. His hands seemed uncertain where to land on my bare back, and he patted me awkwardly.

“We have a reservation,” he said. He picked my shawl up from the floor, draped it over his own arm, then extended his hand to me. The table he’d reserved was in a loft, by a wall of windows which overlooked the ocean. “This alright?” He asked as he pulled my chair out for me and the server set our menus down.

“It’s exquisite,” I said. “Thank you.”

“You’re exquisite,” he breathed and put his hand over his heart. “That dress!”

“I was hoping you would like it,” I shrugged. I wiggled one of my bare shoulders at him, and added, “I wanted you to see my sunburn was very much healed.” He moved his chair closer and kissed my shoulder. Then he pushed his glasses up on his nose and looked around to make sure there was no one we knew. I raised my eyebrows and frowned before I realized it.

“Sorry. This is all new to me. I’m sure a woman like you goes out all the time, but me, well. . .” he shrugged.

“I don’t go out that often. I mean, not like this anyway,” I explained. “And I guess it would be pretty weird for anyone we know to see us out together. It would take a lot of explaining.”

“That it would,” he said. “I’ll try harder to relax.”

“No worries. I imagine priests don’t have a ton of experience dating,” I chuckled.

“Is this a date?” He leaned over and whispered in my ear. His breath stirred the hair on my neck and I shivered. I closed my eyes for longer than a blink necessitated, and when I opened them, I realized my nipples were hard. The nature of my dress was such I was not wearing a bra, so I reached for my shawl and brought it around me.

“I mean, I sort of thought it was. I got dressed for a date,” I joked. “But that doesn’t have to mean anything. We can totally just enjoy each other’s company. No pressure.”

“Pressure is not at all what I’m feeling at this moment. _Awe_ is more accurate. You’re so beautiful, Daisy, inside and out. Any man would be thrilled to be seen by your side.” His voice was completely sincere, but his eyes practically dripped with something I’d never seen in a man before. If I didn’t know better, if I didn’t know this was a man who had already committed his life to serving religion, I would have guessed he was worshiping me. He ran a finger up my arm. I took a big sip of my water and crunched the ice.

During dinner, we didn’t talk so much as gently regard one another with sly looks, secretive touches, and sensual sighs over our food. By our second bottle of wine, there was no mistaking we were on a date. He fed me spoonfuls of decadent mousse and we sipped rich dessert martinis. “I’ll be tipsy soon, if I’m not already,” I said, licking a dollop of cream off the spoon he held before me.

“I promise I won’t take advantage and I won’t let you drive home until you’re sober,” he pledged like a boyscout. An unladylike guffaw escaped my lips and his face fell. I reached out to touch him, to stroke the soft hair at his temple.

“I adore that,” I said. “You make me feel so safe.”

We walked through the darkened village, along a seawall. After a bit we stopped and sat on the wall, facing one another. It was a balmy night with a clear, starry sky over the steady surf.

“So Lucy, typically any conference within the confines of the confessional are confidential and clergy are bound to that. . . “ Gabe started, “We don’t typically bring it up again, or inquire after a confession is made, but you didn’t exactly make a confession and I wasn’t exactly in the role of your clergy, was I?

“I suppose not. What is it you want to know?”

“Well, I guess I’d like to know about the termination of your pregnancy,” he said and I was so relieved he didn’t use the word _abortion,_ I could have kissed him.

“Alright. Well. It was a few years ago.”

“You must have been quite young, I mean, you’re still very young.”

“I was almost nineteen. I hadn’t been with this guy for long and it was a really bad place. I swear to you it was my only option. The guy I was. . . well, let’s just say he wasn’t father material and he wasn’t good boyfriend material either.”

“Was he rough with you?”

I huffed a scornful laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“I’m so sorry,” he squeezed my hand.

“Yeah, well, it’s not your fault and it’s over now.”

“I know it’s not my fault, Lucy, but I still feel bad it happened to you.”

“I don’t really like to talk about it or even think about it.”

“That’s fine. We don’t have to, but I do wonder why it was the first thing you ever told me about yourself.”

“Well I didn’t know who you were, did I?” I looked out over the water and took my hand from his, started picking at a cuticle. “I was just staring at a fancy wooden wall. I dunno, I guess I was being provocative in a way. It’s a bad habit. It seemed like the worst thing I could say in a church, to admit to the worst possible thing I could have ever done. Go big or go home, right?”

“Hmm, I see,” he said and looked out over the water, as I turned to read his expression.

“Well was it?”

“What?”

“Was it the worst sin a person could have committed? Am I going to hell?”

"I thought you don't believe in- how did you put it?- Jesus shit?"

"I don't. I just wanna know what you think."

“According to the Book of Matthew, Jesus told Peter if his brother is repentant he should be forgiven seventy-seven times. The Lord's mercy is infinite. I think you’re okay, Lucy,” he winked at me.

“Okay, that’s the Bible, but what about you? What do you think? And what if I’m not repentant, Gabe? Will you not want to know me anymore because of something I did out of desperation, _pure desperation_ , years ago?” My chin quivered with a coming onslaught of tears. “Because if you brought me out here to interrogate me. . . I mean, seriously? I got dressed up for this?” I bit my lip, trying to hold off my tears and hold on to my self respect.

Gabe got off the wall and stood before me. He put his hands on my shoulders and caressed them gently, then he rubbed my lower lip with his thumb. “Don’t bite your pretty lip,” he soothed. He cupped my face in his hands, and for a moment, I thought he was about to kiss me, but then he spoke, “I don’t judge you. I know you had your reasons; it was the first thing I heard in your voice. And you don’t have to share or explain those reasons with me or anyone, okay?” I nodded and collapsed against his chest. He put his arms around me and stroked my back, this time seeming much more at ease with his hands on my skin. His fingers traced the bumps of my spine down toward my hips. “I wanted to do this all night. These sweet little ridges of you,” he sighed. I hopped off the wall so I could stand closer to him. I wrapped my arms around his trim waist and pulled him against me. He moaned softly in my hair and I felt him getting hard on my hip. “You feel so good,” he murmured. “It’s scary how good you feel.”

I pushed away from him just enough to look at his face. His eyes were closed. “You feel good too,” I whispered. He smiled and I was about to touch my lips to his, when he spoke again.

“Then of course, there is the matter of your second confession.”

“Oh,” my cheeks blushed furiously. “Well I told you I have a bad habit of being provocative.”

“You did and you do,” his beard rubbed pleasantly on my neck as he got closer to my ear and whispered, “And it drives me crazy.” Unable to take another moment, I grabbed his face and went in for a kiss, but he pulled away. “Not here. Not yet,” he said.

He led me to his car and we drove to a deserted parking lot by a little beach. Before turning off the engine, he opened the moon roof. We lowered our seats back and held hands, looking at the stars, listening to the water lap the shore. He circled my wrist with his thumb and forefinger. “So delicate,” he sighed. Tugging gently, he brought my arm closer to him and kissed the inside of my wrist. My breath quickened as I turned in my car seat to face him. He found my radial pulse with his tongue and held it there for a moment that seemed suspended in a bubble of profound perfection. It floated up with us in it, like a couple of stowaways, oblivious to anything outside of its glistening surface. “Lucy,” he said, but his mouth was already on mine so I felt it move on my lips, felt his breath on my nose and chin, felt him guide my arm around his neck so we were holding each other.

For a while, our lips simply pressed together, and we stroked each other’s necks and faces, breathing in tandem. When his tongue made to open my mouth with a gentle, almost polite lick, it surprised me. I leapt a little in his arms, but willingly deepened the kiss. For me, it was the first time I’d ever kissed a man with such a full beard, as opposed to the scruffy, unshaven guys I’d been with in the past. The texture of him thrilled my fingers and I held the sides of his face, pulling him closer to me. His lips were surprisingly soft, maybe even as soft and full as mine, and they seemed to know exactly how I wanted them to move on me. Tearing himself from my lips, he kissed down my neck and between my breasts. I untied the top of my dress to free my breasts so he could roll one in his palm and kiss the other, on it’s fleshy crest and then over my hardened nipple.

The pleasure of him sucking my nipple into his mouth, was agonizing. I wanted to climb on top of him, wanted him inside me instantly like in my fantasy. I pulled his face back up and kissed him again, stroking my hand under his shirt to feel his warm skin. My fingers wandered over one of his nipples and he gasped. Still kissing deeply, I threw a leg over his, rubbed down over his belly and grazed his cock, which was completely erect, straining in his pants. When I touched him, he grabbed my wrist and took it away, then pushed my leg off of him.

“It’s too much,” he whispered. “I need to go slow. Slow. . .” He opened his door and got out of the car. Uncertain what had happened, I tied my dress back up and straightened myself prior to following him outside.

“Gabe? What’s up? Are you alright?”

“It’s just too much, too soon. I’m sorry,” he muttered, shaking his head sorrowfully and pacing behind his car.

“Don’t be sorry,” I said. I approached him tentatively and put a hand on his arm. “You’re shaking. Are you cold?”

“No,” he sighed. “Come here. Let me hold you.” He backed me up against his car and kissed me.

“I’m worried, Gabe. You’re trembling. Did I do something wrong? Please tell me how to fix it.” Desperation made my mouth sweaty, like I was going to throw up.

“You did nothing wrong, Baby,” he kissed my face, my neck, my forehead. He covered me in kisses. He could have buried me in his kisses and I would have given up all the breath in my body to feel him. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Do you know that? Can you feel it? You’re making me feel things. . . kissing you, oh, Lucy you steal my breath. I'm breathless.”

“Have mine,” I whispered and covered his mouth with my own, lapped my tongue over his in long strokes, and licked the insides of his cheeks and his teeth. He took my wrists and extended my arms to the side, like I was flying, like I was Jesus on the cross, like I was larger than I really was, like I had a power I never knew I possessed. Then he brought them above my head and around his neck, and we swayed in the night like we were dancing and I was small again, small enough to fit right inside of him, to swim around in him like a fish and survive on whatever secrets resided within his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are reading this, you don't even know how much it means to me. And if you have left kudos or comments, my heart is eternally yours. Thank you so much.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I wrote a massive amount which I decided to break up into smaller chunks. . . this chapter is just a brief interlude and more will come very soon. xo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for reading so far and for leaving kudos and/or comments!!! You have my heart!

I didn’t sleep much that night. Lips swollen, I drove home in a daze after Gabe brought me back to my car.

“Text me when you get home to let me know you’re safe,” he said, sounding oddly paternal after the teenage make out session that just transpired between us, but when I got back to my apartment, I did text him.

_Home safe. Thank you for a lovely night. xoxo._

He replied with a thumbs up emoji.

I thought maybe he was just settling in and would text more later, but staring at my phone’s screen did not make it happen.

After two in the morning, I checked my email and realized I had an early meeting with the grant guys and some potential donors from a nearby aquarium. “Fuck,” I hissed and climbed into bed, hoping to get at least four hours of sleep, but my body was completely wired. As I ran through the evening’s events, I tried to reassure myself all was well, but anxiety surged at Gabe’s response when I had tried to touch him. The anxiety was replaced by a wave of fevered arousal when I heard his voice echo _I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. . ._

I tossed in my sheets in a state of sleep so light, the fan seemed to wake me with each oscillation it made in the warm air of my room. I clung to my pillow like it was a life raft, like it would keep me afloat, even as my nerves threatened to drag me someplace dark and awful. _Slow. . . slow. . ._

The next morning, my skin felt tight and dry from the sea air. My breast felt almost sore from Gabe’s kisses, and when I looked down in the shower, I saw he’d sucked up a cluster of tiny red dots on the fair pink of my areola. The sight sent shocks of raw want down my spine. It was almost impossible to believe his lips had been there, on me, but I had proof. For a few minutes, I stood under the tepid spray, in a zone of memory, debating if I was too hungover to have an orgasm. When I finally grabbed the shower handle and brought it between my legs, my clit was begging to come. It took less than a minute to bring me over the edge, but during that minute, I was entirely with Gabe, stroking my tongue over his, feeling the amazingly large erection in his pants. _Fuck_ , I wanted to feel him coming inside of me. I wanted him to watch me come. I banged my head against the wall of the shower. _Fuck, fuck_. I squeezed my eyes tight. _Fuckfuckfuckfuck._ I panted as my cunt exploded in almost painful pleasure. Replacing the shower head, I soaped up and rinsed.

Gabe hadn’t called or texted, although a part of me was certain he must have felt aftershocks of my orgasm on the other side of the village. Strangely, my release had done nothing to relieve either my anxiety or edginess. It had been a while since I’d been on a proper “date” with a guy, and Gabe was not a typical man. I tried to reason with myself it was normal he’d need to assimilate the night, and that when he did contact me, it would be well worth the wait. Being sleep deprived certainly did not help my ability to think clearly.

I hastily ate a plain bagel and hopped into my car, feeling woefully unprepared to ask some aquarium big wig for a significant wad of cash. In my rearview mirror, my eyes looked puffy and unfamiliar and I tried to remind myself of the power I felt, pressed up against the back of Gabe’s car, kissing wildly, before he brought me back to my own car.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay loves, this chapter is longer, and if you read all the way to the end you get a smutty little treat. . . xo.

After the potential donors left the cafe we’d met at, Raffe took off, but Tim, stayed behind to have another coffee with me. Tim was an art professor and science wannabe. He also volunteered at the aquarium closest to us. He flashed some photos from his phone of a new surf board and chattered amicably about loving the summer for all its activities.

“Um, I think you gotta give them a little time, Luce,” he said.

“Huh?”

“You keep looking at your phone like you’re expecting the donors to call back any second. Or are you expecting some important text from someone?” He wagged his brows at me with a goofy smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize,” I said and forced myself to put my phone in my bag. It was almost noon and Gabe still hadn’t reached out to me. When we had been together the night before, everything had seemed natural and real. Our kisses had been filled not just with desire, but with devotion.

_Or had they?_

Now that we had been apart for most of a day, I questioned what actually happened. Maybe he had just used me as an experiment and found that he truly didn’t have any human needs outside of his church? Maybe he simply had second thoughts about cheating on Jesus with a silly girl half his age? Maybe he didn’t like the way I smelled or the way my nipple rolled over his tongue. . . _Fuck!_

“Yeah, so if you want to get dinner sometime before the semester starts, I would love to meet up with you,” Tim was saying.

“Dinner?” I’d only been half paying attention.

“Or you know, just lunch, or drinks, or a snack, or we could go to the beach. Whatevs, Luce,” Tim’s teeth were big and almost cartoonish when he grinned at me. I wanted to tell him I hated being called _Luce_ , and I wanted to tell him the idea of him taking me out on a date was insane.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said. The idea of having a "snack" with Tim seemed abhorrent after being spoon fed dessert by Gabe.

But then again, Gabe had not called or texted. Overnight, my life had become a surreal drama in which I was courting, or being courted by a priest. It was possible he was just a man and was a decent person, but I also felt it was incredibly dubious he wouldn’t just turn into another enormous problem.

“Or. . . you know, maybe I could get you backstage again to see Luke?”

“Oh my god! Are you for real?” He had my full attention now. “You could do that?”

“Membership has certain privileges, or at least being an unpaid volunteer has certain privileges. You two hit it off so well the last time. I think he actually had a crush on you.”

“NO WAY,” my eyes bulged and must have looked more cartoonish than Tim’s teeth. “Do you think he’ll remember me?”

“I’d be willing to bet some live crab that he would, to be honest with you,” Tim chuckled.

Luke was an octopus Tim took me to meet late in winter. The aquarium had named him Luke after the Star Wars character because he had a habit of walking around on the top of his exhibit. Luke had been caught as a youngster, and he’d been in an accident that left him missing a tentacle. When I’d met him, he’d started growing the missing arm back, and looked a little lopsided and funky, but it had been love at first sight for me. Tim and Luke’s main keeper had been there to ensure my safety, yet I was not frightened in the least. While they are not violent by nature, they are incredibly strong. Before I’d even reached my hand into the frigid water of the tank, I knew beyond a doubt Luke would not harm me. Octopuses are super curious in nature, but some can be terribly shy to the point of being reclusive. They all have a unique personality, just like people. Luke’s personality bordered on shy, but he came right up to the surface of his tank to meet me that day. He’d wrapped a tentacle around my wrist and gently explored me in the same way I was exploring him. His suction cups pulsated on my flesh, taking not just my physical temperature, but my emotional one as well. I’d held hands with Luke until my fingers were numb and my wrist felt like it was going to detach from my body. Tim and the keeper helped to coax him away from me with some squid, which he rolled up his arm over each row of suction cups like a belly dancer rolls a coin over her tummy. He’d enchanted me.

“Tim if you get me in to visit Luke again, I will buy _you_ dinner anywhere you want,” I said and tried to ignore his grin.

The prospect of visiting Luke distracted me from Gabe for a brief and blissful few moments, but the second I realized I hadn’t been thinking about him, I started thinking about him again with a vengeance. Driving home, I turned up Lana Del Rey super loud and sang along. I paused the music and called June. “Hey Junebug, wanna go get high at the beach?”

“Fuck to the yeah,” she answered without skipping a beat. “I just got some swell shit. You’re gonna love it.”

I picked her up and we smoked a bowl in my car before we even left her street. Weed always hit me like an eighteen wheeler, and I could never smoke as much as June could. We went to a small cove and walked along it, picking up shells and rocks that looked magical to our eyes which were fuzzy and forgiving under the influence. I found several pieces of sea glass which I rubbed between my fingers before putting in my pockets. We spread out towels and chatted for a while. I fell asleep. When I woke up, the sun was low in the sky.

“Damn,” I said. “I’m thirsty and starving.”

“I gotta’ pee,” June added. Staggering to my car, we decided to to drive to a Mexican restaurant for food, margaritas, and a clean bathroom. Settled in our table, we ordered a hearty dinner and icy drinks that instantly made us silly. “You have sand in your cleavage,” June announced a bit too loud. The only other people in the restaurant that early were older couples and families. A mother shot an annoyed glance toward our table. I looked down and tried to dust the grit that was in fact in my cleavage. Against my better judgement, we did a couple shots of tequila in between our second round of margaritas. “Do you remember that bachelorette party we went to for, oh shit, what was her name?”

“Jenny Smith,” I rolled my eyes knowing exactly what June was thinking.

“Yes! What a stupid name, no wonder I forgot it. Anyway, do you remember how many shots we did and how wasted we got?”

“Barely. We were like black out drunk.”

“Omg. You haven’t lived until you’ve hurled in a trash bag in the back of a limo,” June sighed. “If I ever get married, you of course will be my Maid of Honor because I don’t want my twat sister meddling in my shit. And I wanna throw up in a trash bag with you in the back of a limo after getting lap dances from the hottest strippers in the city.”

“That’s your dream?” I choked on a chip, laughing. June nodded, her huge green eyes glassy and unfocused and alarmingly pretty. “Okay. It’s a deal. But are the strippers dudes or chicks?”

June rolled her eyes at me. “You really need to ask?” She shot a glance at my sandy cleavage and clicked her tongue.

I paid the check, as I always did when we went out, and we walked arm in arm through town. A robust, but tame crowd of tourists roamed the streets, window shopping, and gazing out at the harbor as they did every year. We decided to get ice cream from the homemade creamery where a line wrapped halfway around the building. As we waited, a shadow flickered in the corner of my eye. I looked up to see a man in black walking down the street. Huddling beside June, I hoped he hadn’t seen me, but he did, and made his way over to where we stood in line.

“Hello, Lucy,” he greeted me. His eyes darted back and forth between me and June.

“Hi,” I rasped, suddenly dizzy from the weed and tequila coursing my system. “Um, Gabe this is June, June this is Gabe.” June shook his hand and they exchanged pleasantries I couldn’t really hear for the blood rushing through my head. All day long, I’d been desperate to hear from him and now he was here in front of me and I could barely look at him.

“Well, it was nice to see you. Enjoy your evening,” he said and walked away. I watched him go until I couldn’t see him anymore.

“Dude,” June sounded serious. “Is he a priest? Cuz he was dressed like a priest.”

“Yeah.”

“How do you know a priest, Lulu?”

“Ugh, it’s a long story.”

“Okay then, tell me is he one of the celibate ones? Cuz he’s kind of hot in an older, dark and stormy kind of way.”

“He’s a Catholic priest,” I sighed. “So, yeah, he’s one of the ones that abstains from physical intimacy and can’t get married.”

“Whoa,” June sounded seriously impressed. She shook her head. “That is a loss for society.”

“You thought he was hot? And dark and stormy?”

“I mean, he’s not exactly my type, but he has something. I dunno, maybe it’s just cuz he’s forbidden fruit. His eyes are smoldering. Did you see how smoldering his eyes were?”

“I didn’t really notice,” I said and studied the board with all the ice cream flavors written out in chalk. I could barely breathe, let alone concentrate on the menu, so I just got a small scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough. June got three conflicting flavors piled high in a waffle cone. We walked through town and sat on a bench by the docks.

“Okay, so let’s hear the long story.”

“Huh?”

“How on earth did you meet Mr. Preacher Man?”

“Umm, remember that poetry reading I did a few months ago?” I specifically brought up an event June hadn’t attended. “He was there.”

“Did he read a poem?” June was so enraptured in my story, she didn’t realize her ice cream was dripping down over her bare legs and Doc Martens.

“Nah, we just talked and stuff after. It was super casual.” Lying to June made me gag on the next chunk of cookie dough I tried to chew.

“Well, I dunno how casual it was Lulee. He was looking at you like he wanted to bend you over the altar and—“ she started making a lewd gesture with her cone.

“June!” I swatted her and feigned laughter. “You’re nuts, and you’re also dripping that monstrosity all over creation.”

“Sorry we can’t all eat a tiny scoop of cookie dough like a baby bird,” she said as she mouthed her cone. After we finished our ice cream, I drove her home. She insisted I take another hit of her weed to help digest our feast and I didn’t try to resist. At the very least, I hoped it would help me get some decent sleep.

In the shower for the second time that day, I noticed the red marks on my breast were already fading. They practically blended in with the light pink ring around my nipple where Gabe had lavished his attention. A sense of loss gripped me as I wondered at the strange fact it had only been one night ago I’d been with him, in his arms, giving myself over to him. I gladly would have fucked him in his car like a sloppy, horny teenager. Just remembering the way he’d looked at me, with an almost mournful lust, made my thighs tremble.

While changing into pajamas, I thought about June saying Gabe looked like he wanted to bend me over the altar. My brain compelled a series of vivid images. The way he might look at me, eyes smoldering with conflict and need. I’d try to keep my distance, place my hands behind my back and try to behave, but temptation would get the better of him.

_We stand at the front of the church. It’s dark except for candles, empty except for us, and silent except for the tide of our breath. He runs his hands over my body, closing his eyes as he feels my curves and bones. Pulling me closer to him by my waist, he purrs in my ear, “Can you feel what you do to me?” And my mouth opens in surprise as I feel the bulge he presses into me. “Tell me,” he whispers. “Tell me you feel me.”_

_“Oh, God, I feel you,” I whimper and he feels so good, he makes me feel so good as he rubs me through my clothes. He walks me up the steps, past the communion rail, and he turns me around so I face the altar with it’s green and ivory brocade dressings._

_“Put your hands on top,” he orders and I comply. He pulls up my skirt and caresses my ass through my panties, then threads his hands through my legs, widening my stance and fondling my swollen labia. I turn my face back and he kisses me, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth until it hurts and I cry out. When he pulls my panties down to my ankles, he crouches down, guides one of my feet out of them, and then the other. As he rises, he licks his way up my inner thigh and his tongue just grazes my opening. “You’re so ready for me, aren’t you?”_

_“I am. Take me, Father,” I moan. I hear him rucking up his cassock and unzipping his pants. He rubs his erection over my backside and it’s heat inflames my need to have him. I bend over and buck my hips out, inviting him in. He teases my opening with delicious circles for a moment before thrusting in, but when he does enter me it is not gentle. He grabs my hips and enshrines himself suddenly and completely in my wetness. In a moment of stillness, we adjust to one another, slow our breathing, least we come instantly. Then he begins to pump in and out of me in a mercilessly slow rhythm that has me crying ecstatically in moments. Once he knows I’ve had my first climax, he speeds up. My fingers grip the cloth of the altar trying to get purchase as he slaps against me. He becomes almost savage, biting my neck, squeezing my breasts, telling me he’s getting ready to fill me up and I will take it, I will take him, I will own every drop. I come again as he’s saying these things. His voice is like smoke in my ear. As wild has he’s been fucking me, when he comes at last, it is deliberate and intense. He’s ensured I’ve had all I can manage, and he lets go in me with a groan that makes me shatter one last time around him as he streams hot ribbons of pleasure into me for what seems like an eternity._

My mind had gotten entirely lost in my fantasy. I almost didn't hear my phone buzzing.

It was Gabe.

“Hey,” I answered. “I was just thinking of you.”


	13. Chapter 13

“You were? Were you out running? You sound out of breath,” Gabe sounded perplexed.

“Uhh, no. I just ran to get the phone,” I fibbed.

“I hope I’m not calling too late,” he sighed.

“It’s barely late at all,” I said. It was 9:30.

“I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner, Lucy. It’s been a long day.”

“Has it?” My intention was not to sound as frigid as I did.

“Yes. I, uh, had a parishioner who needed last rites not long after I got home from being with you. It was maybe four in the morning and I got there, just in time to administer the sacrament.” He paused in his story like I was supposed to say something, but I did not know what to say. Eventually, he continued, “I had to stay, counsel the family and wait with them until the morticians arrived. The parents were inconsolable, so I spent most of the day with them.”

“Parents?”

“Yes. They lost their three year old to a very brutal cancer. It was. . . well, I probably shouldn’t even be telling you any of this.”

“Fuck, Gabe,” I breathed.

“Yeah, fuck,” he said. It was the first time I’d heard him swear.

“Are you okay?” In my mind we were still standing on the altar, him in his cum stained robe, talking about a dead toddler. It was obscene.

“I’m fine. It’s part of the job, but not a pretty part when it’s a child. Not like that,” he muttered. “But I’m fine. How are you?”

“Good. I’m good, I had a pretty good day,” I said. I told him about meeting with Tim and how Tim was going to get a date for me with Luke.

“Lucky octopus,” Gabe chuckled. “I like the way your voice sounds when you talk about him, but should I should be jealous?”

“Oh, you definitely should be jealous of Luke. He’s my endless love. If we ever go to the aquarium, I’ll show him to you from the visitor side. Maybe I can even get Tim to get us a threesome.”

“Now that would be something!” Gabe said and his voice seemed less morose. “You looked out of it with your friend tonight. Were you okay?”

“Oh, gosh, yeah. We had just had our fill of tequila and marijuana. I was a bit zooted, that’s all.”

“Were you safe? You had fun?”

“Yep.”

“Did you tell her about me? After we met? I knew I shouldn’t have interrupted your evening, and I apologize for the intrusion, but I couldn’t help myself. I’d thought about you all day. I had to see you, even for just that moment.”

“You did?”

“I did,” he asserted and I rolled my head back and forth on my pillow trying to focus. “So, did you tell her?”

“Is that why you called, Gabe? To find out if you were busted?”

“Lucy, of course not. I wanted to hear your voice. I wish I could see you. You have no clue what it’s been like trying to get through this day while being mentally dragged back to last night.”

“I mean, I might have a clue,” I consciously softened my tone, or rather, he softened it, like putting a stick of butter in a microwave for just a few seconds. He could have dipped his fingers into me and slurped me up. “Of course I didn’t tell her anything.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“No. No.” He paused for a moment and it sounded like he was fumbling around in a drawer for something. A pen, a flashlight? I couldn’t tell. “We need time to figure this out, right? I don’t want to suggest you keep things from your friends, but it’s a small town and we don’t need a lot of attention on us.”

I stiffened. “You mean you don’t need any attention on you. Is that more accurate?”

“I’m making a mess of this,” he sighed heavily. “We should probably talk in person.”

“Don’t you have a three year old’s funeral to officiate?” I could practically see the bone my comment sliced down to. “I’m sorry,” I offered instantly. “I just don’t really understand what’s happening right now.”

“What’s happening is I want to see you. My arms feel like fantom limbs groping around the universe for something to hold in your absence, Lucy. All I wanted today was to see you, to press my nose into that little spot behind your ear. And my lips, oh I can’t even explain how they felt today, how they burned for you. They were puffy and strange and I kept licking them and it only made things worse.”

“You should buy some chapstick,” I said, but my tone was soft and he laughed.

“I guess I should.”

“Do you know when octopus loose a limb, like when it is cut off, it still operates on its own, completely separate from the body and brain. It will even try to find food and feed it to a phantom head for several hours.”

“I didn’t know that, but it’s amazing. I love what you know. I want to know everything you know, Lucy. You believe that right?”

“Yeah, I believe you Gabe.”

“Look, the next few days are going to be intense. I can’t pretend my job is something other than what it is, but I promise I will give you every spare second I have. Can we just try to meet for lunch tomorrow, spend some time, be together?”

“I suppose,” I said through a smile.

“Thank you,” he sighed and his breath gusted into my ear in the phone, I could practically feel it stir my hair. “I wish I could hold you right now. I wish I could float in your eyes and feel you all around me.”

“You could come over?”

“It’s late and I wouldn’t be great company. Like I said, It’s been a really long day. But you’re in my heart, okay?”

We hung up and I fell almost instantly into a deep sleep where Gabe had a hundred arms and they all wrapped around me, tasting me to my bone and feeling my every feeling. He dragged me deep under the water’s surface where he laid me down on a bed of silky, waving sea grass. It was dark, but he called me _Lucia._ I closed my eyes to the rusted hulls of wrecked ships resting nearby. There was no sound but for the pulse of water in my ear.

And I was not frightened at all. 


	14. Chapter 14

The first time I made him come was in his car. 

He was dressed like a priest. 

We finished lunch at the Bento Box where we’d gone on the premise of talking about the weird, new boundaries of our relationship, but once we were together, we fell back in harmonious sync. The need to talk or deconstruct things hardly seemed important. Getting caught in his sticky eye space, I could feel his sincerity and my defenses lowered almost without my knowing. 

Because we met in the middle of his work day, Gabe arrived dressed in black pants and black, button down shirt with the little square of white in the collar. He noticed me look him up and down. 

“I didn’t have time to change,” he explained. “And it would have seemed really weird for me to be in regular clothes in the middle of my work day, if anyone saw me.”

“It’s fine,” I smiled. “You know my friend thought you looked super hot when she met you the other night.”

“Oh?” He seemed thrown off. “That’s not a compliment I get every day.” 

We ordered an obscene amount of sushi, served in a huge, wooden boat. I requested we be seated on the tatami mats in a quiet corner with the hopes we could be mostly alone. We were. My fingers inched toward his on the table while I held his gaze, and I flirtatiously bit my lower lip. I was pleasantly buzzed on a combination of sake and Japanese beer, and was being a little silly but sincere. He glanced around anxiously, but the second my hand touched his fingertips, he closed his eyes, rolled his head and uttered a shaky sigh. 

“You’re not going to have to work that hard to seduce me,” his voice was gritty and low.

“I sincerely hope not after the state you left me in the other night,” I teased. 

“And what state was that, exactly?”

“Mmmmh, let’s just say I might have to make another confession,” as soon as the words were out I second guessed them, but he took them with the humor they were intended. 

“I did not want to go, but it’s a good thing I did,” he said in a voice that sounded low and secretive, almost like his confessional voice. I picked up a spicy tuna roll and ate it hastily to keep from saying anything else. After swallowing, I took a big swig of sake and followed that with a chunk of salmon I dredged through soy sauce prior to placing back on its little rice bed. He watched me pick the fish and rice up with my fingers and place it in my mouth. “I’m no good with chopsticks so I eat Tokyo style,” I explained after I’d chewed and swallowed. Eating typically made me self conscious, but with him, I felt like I was doing something elaborately sacred for his eyes alone. 

“I could watch you eat like that all day,” he replied. 

“How long do you have?” 

“I have a couple hours before I have to get back.”

“As much as I can toss back sushi like a trained seal, I don’t think I can eat for a couple hours,” I said and he laughed. “Want to come back to mine?”

“Let’s go for a drive,” he suggested. After lunch we got into his car and he drove us to a quiet spot. He looked around and the second he was satisfied we were entirely alone, his hands were on me and his tongue was deep in my mouth. “I can’t stop thinking about this,” he said, sliding his hands under my shirt and playing with my breasts. This time, he didn’t stop me when I touched him over his black pants. He didn’t stop me when I unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned or unzipped him. 

“Is this okay?” I asked, rubbing my flat palm over his cock through his boxers. 

“Yes,” he growled against my mouth. “Don’t stop!” And he pulled his boxers and pants down enough so his cock sprang out. It was even bigger than it had initially felt through his pants, and for a moment, I just stared at it. 

I took him in my hand and caressed his shaft. I rubbed his head with my thumb. I wanted to kiss him, but he turned his face from my lips, so I nibbled his ear and neck. He made a strange noise, wrapped his hand around mine and squeezed, then started to stroke himself off in my hand. He held my hand around him much firmer than I ever would have dreamed to grip him. It was weird and fast. He came within a few pumps of his fist, and his climax seemed to last longer than the actual hand job. I couldn’t even guess the last time he came, because his semen spurted in long, white hot cords over my knuckles for what seemed a dozen times. 

Even though it didn’t last long, It made me ridiculously wet. His head was back against the car seat head rest and he gasped for air. He let go of my hand and I gently released my grasp on him. His cock pulsated, thick and dusky, on his lower abdomen. He looked at me with eyes wide and wild, his mouth opening and closing. I brought my hand to my mouth and licked his cum off my fingers while staring him dead on. An aftershock shuddered through him as he watched me. He tasted like all things- sweet and salty and slightly fermented. “What?” He gasped, watching me. “Don’t, don’t do that.”

“I want to. You’re amazing,” I sighed. 

“Can I touch you,” he gulped. I nodded and leaned back in the seat. He bit his lower lip and ran his eyes over my body. “How do I. . . what do you. . .?” He looked panicked. I smiled and took his hand in my hand that was still sticky with his seed. I brought it up my shirt and put it on my breast. The second he felt me, his instincts took over. He rucked up my shirt and started mouthing hungrily over my bra while moving his other hand up between my legs. His fingers nudged in the side of my panties and fondled my swollen labia for a moment before he found his way to the slippery slit in between. When he felt me there, he bit down hard on my nipple and I bucked up and hissed. “I’m sorry,” he soothed. 

“No apologies,” I moaned. “You feel so good. I’m gonna come fast too, Gabe.” 

“Do you want to show me what you like?”

“You’re doing it. Like that, oh, yeah, don’t stop,” I whimpered on his neck, the smell of his semen on my breath echoing back at me and making me want more. He stroked me slow and tender and let me move my hips against the plump pads of his fingers. I pulled my bra down and brought my breasts out and he licked and suckled them alternately. I noticed while he was doing this he got hard again and I moved to take him in my hand, but he pushed me away. 

“Just you right now,” he whispered. In another minute, I was coming on his hand, clutching his wrist to hold him against me because the pleasure was too intense and I needed the pressure to come back down from it. His cock strained straight up, hard and throbbing. 

“I wanna suck you,” I whispered and started to go down, but he held me off. He kissed my forehead and held me. “You’re hard again. Let me. . .”

“No,” he whispered back. “Not this time. This is enough. It’s enough.” He tucked himself away in his pants, handed me a napkin to wipe my hand, and then reached over to cradle me to him, as best we could over the middle console of his SUV. I heard his heart race and nuzzled my face against his chest. “Was that okay?” He asked.

I sat up and smiled at him. “It was so good,” I insisted. “Better even than I imagined.”

“You imagined this?”

“Various versions of it. Haven’t you?” 

“I think my imagination has some catching up to do,” he said. He drove me back to my car in the parking lot of the Bento Box. 

“Good luck tonight,” I said, knowing he was meeting with the parents to plan their child’s services. He looked around and then leaned over and kissed me. 

“I want you again already,” he whispered in my ear. 

I giggled, actually giggled, and said, “I could tell.” 

He sat back and looked at me and took a deep breath. When he exhaled, he said, “You must be the devil, come to tempt me with your wicked ways.”

“That doesn’t seem quite nice, Gabe,” I said and felt a storm gathering in my throat. 

“I’m sorry,” he said and rubbed his face with his hands like he was a tired child. “Oh, Lucy, I smell you all over my fingers.”

“Wash your hands,” I suggested. “It’ll be okay.” 

“What if I don’t want to?” His question hovered in between us in the car. I leaned over and kissed him. 

“Then don’t,” I said and got out of his vehicle before he could say anything else.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a longer chapter. . . with a bunch of smut, and a little fluff, and a smattering of angst. It be like that sometimes.

He called me late that night. I was in bed with my laptop, checking emails and looking at suggestions Raffe and Tim sent for revisions. To be honest, I’d made peace with the fact Gabe wouldn’t call me for a day or so, at least not until the scent of me faded from his flesh and he was able to swallow whatever guilt I knew he felt but did not want to acknowledge.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said. His voice sounded tired, a little gruff, like the day had worn him ragged around his edges.

“Nope. I’m up.”

“What are you doing?”

“A little work. My boys want me to rewrite a chunk of our grant and I’m considering their request.” I sighed.

“Your _boys_ , eh?” He said. “Should I be jealous?”

“Hmmm, let’s see. Raffe is married to a man who teaches art history at the university, and Tim has the hugest fucking teeth you’ve ever seen in your life. He practically looks like a cartoon. So, I don’t know, you tell me; are you jealous?”

“I suppose not,” he chuckled.

“Are you the jealous type?” I closed my laptop and gave my full attention to whatever he might answer.

“The jealous type,” he repeated. “Well, honestly I don’t know. Before very recently, I was the celibate Catholic priest type.”

“Touché,” I said. “So, how did it go today?”

“It was rough. I’m tired, maybe a little sad, I don’t know.” He sounded lost. Exchanging hand jobs in his car prior to pastoral counseling probably did not help his angst. I told him I didn’t know what to say. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to hear your voice, and I don’t know, I was hoping. . .”

“What?”

“You’re going to think I’m insane, but I did a search today through our parish records and we don’t have any parishioners living on your street or on the next block for that matter.”

“Okay?”

“Well, if you wanted to see me, I could come over for a little bit?”

“Yeah! You want to? Sure. I mean, I’m not dressed up or wearing makeup or anything, but stop by.” My heart raced, thinking about Gabe walking into my apartment, seeing and touching my things, being with me in my own space.

The time it took for him to arrive at my apartment, allowed me to brush my hair and rinse my teeth with mouth wash. His knock was soft, almost tentative at my door. I hadn’t changed into clothes, so I answered the door dressed in a silky sleep cami, shorts, and bare feet. He looked me up and down and gave a low whistle before ducking into my place. He wore his black work pants, but he’d changed his formal shirt and collar for a casual tee shirt that looked discordant with his formal pants. I might have been a bit embarrassed, had I not been so happy to see him.

“Gosh you look nice,” he whispered as he pulled me into him. “A beautiful daisy.” He kissed the top of my head. I stood on tip toes to hug him.

“I didn’t think I’d hear from you for a few days,” I said as we released our grip on one another. He looked tired and sort of sad, maybe even a bit older than usual, but I didn’t tell him that.

“You didn’t, or didn’t want to?” He sounded genuinely concerned, maybe a bit insecure.

“Of course I wanted to,” I said quickly and touched his arm. “It’s just that when we’ve been together, it seems to take you a minute or three to get back to me.”

He pushed his glasses up and sucked his lower lip for a moment. “I’m sorry about that. It does take me a moment to reconcile what’s happening with who I am and the life I live. This is all new for me.”

“It’s okay,” I tried to sound mature and reassuring, but honestly, I was confused and maybe even a bit annoyed. I wanted to ask him why he was standing in my apartment if he wanted to live the life he’d always lived, but he looked just as confused as I did, maybe even more so. I thought about the day he’d had, planning a toddler’s funereal, and didn’t want to pile my shit on him. So I showed him into my apartment and I watched him look around my place as if he were exploring a museum.

“Hey, I met her, didn’t I?” He said when he came to a picture of June and me standing next to a donkey.

“Yeah, that’s my best friend. June.”

“Where was this?”

“We were on vacation in Mexico. That was on a little island off the mainland,” I sidled up next to him. “You want some tea or something stiffer?”

“Tea would be nice,” he said. I made him comfortable on my living room sofa, and went to fill and turn on my electric kettle. I brewed a pot of looseleaf chamomile and mint tea which I brought out on a tray with my favorite teacups and a plate of shortbread cookies. “This is beautiful. Thank you,” he offered me a little smile as I poured his tea into one of the delicate, porcelain cups. I curled on the floor at his feet and put my head in his lap. He threaded his fingers in my hair and gently scratched my scalp while our tea cooled. For a while, we were silent; my previous irritation drifted away. Being close to him reassured and soothed me, massaged out the kinks of my questions and doubt, and left me soft, pliable.

Watching steam rise from my cup, feeling him touch my head, mesmerized me. “I’m going to fall asleep like this,” I said and hopped onto the couch next to him. I nuzzled my nose in his bearded cheek and put my arm over his tummy. He leaned back on the couch and put his arm around me. He smelled nice, like a mix of incense and candles and his own soap and skin.

“This shouldn’t feel so good,” he sighed toward the ceiling. “I shouldn’t even be here, you know?”

“But you are,” I purred and cuddled closer to him, eclipsing any doubt and not allowing my anger to creep between us.

“Yes. I am.”

He felt solid and real in my arms, more so than anything I’d felt in a really long time. I couldn’t exactly figure what it was about rubbing my fingers over the hair on his tan arm that sent me spiraling outside myself. It felt simultaneously hypnotic and exhilarating, like I’d done an exotic, designer drug. Safety and fear collided frantically in my gut with the speed of an unstable chemical reaction, and I was wrapped in the vapors of whatever it was, until it was all I could see or breathe or feel.

We were already sitting close, but I needed to be closer to enhance the safety and extinguish the fear. It didn’t take much for me to make my way onto his lap. I straddled him, stroked his face, and took off his glasses. He closed his eyes and I pressed gentle kisses on his eyelids. A single tear escaped the crease of one of his eyes, and I caught it on the tip of my tongue. He groaned shakily, opening his mouth for me to kiss, and his hands cupped my ass. In my short shorts, he got quite a handful of soft flesh. He squirmed underneath me, adjusted his erection so it pressed up between my legs through our clothes. “Gabe,” I whimpered and rubbed against him. “I want you.”

“Not all the way,” he said, sounding strangely like a kid. With eyes closed, it was hard to remember he was old enough to be my father, maybe even older. “I’m not ready yet.”

“Okay, okay,” I said and thrust my hands under his tee shirt. “We’ll do whatever you like.” I peeled his shirt off, kissed his chest and licked around his nipples which seemed as sensitive as mine. He pulled my head back up and started kissing me sloppy and deep, then stopped suddenly and turned his face away.

“Too fast,” he murmured as he squeezed my bum and breathed hard on my neck. “Kissing you makes it just go too fast. You don’t even know.”

“You’ll get used to it,” I encouraged him, but backed off to let him catch his breath.

“I shouldn’t. . .” he started but didn’t finish the thought because he was kissing me again. He gingerly lifted the hem of my shirt and brought it over my head so both our bare chests pressed together, warm and soft, for the first time. With a throaty grumble, he pushed me gently back on the couch and was on top of me. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, but winced as his belt buckle bit my skin. Reaching down, he undid his pants and pushed them down over his hips. He moved away for a moment to toe off his shoes and rid himself of the rest of his clothes. Then he was back on top of me. I wrapped my arms around him and he around me and we held each other fast, breathing heavy and heated against one another’s necks. “Can I?” He asked as he started to push my shorts down. I nodded. He stripped them off and sat back to look at me. With curious, tender hands, he stroked my ribs and belly, the sides of my breasts, my hips, my thighs. He rubbed over my curls with his palm and then dragged a finger through my slit. I bit my lower lip, trying to be patient with him, but wanting more. When he felt how wet I’d become, his cock shook and I saw a glistening drop of arousal gather on his head. I spread my legs a bit, hoping he would take a cue, but he seemed determined to take his time exploring me.

He kissed his way up my belly and torso, his beard tickling my ribs. When he got to my breasts, he licked and sucked and I keened with the electric pleasure of it. I rubbed against his body and moaned, “You could make me come just from doing that.”

“Is it okay?” He asked.

“Yes,” I stroked his hair and neck reassuringly. “You’re so good.” He rubbed his erection between my legs and for a moment, I thought he was ready to enter me, but he readjusted himself so he was pressed on my stomach. There wasn’t much lubrication between us, aside from the generous pre cum he leaked, but it didn’t seem to bother him as he rubbed himself against me. He reached down to stroke my pussy and managed to slip a finger inside me. “Another one, please!” I begged and he obliged me by putting another one of his thick, long fingers in me. I moved on his fingers and it wasn’t long before I was clinging to him, gasping, calling out his name and throbbing against him.

“I don’t want to make a mess on your couch,” he whispered as I came down from my climax.

“Oh my god, I don’t even care about that. Come for me! Please!” I wiggled against him, rotating my hips and mashing my abdomen against his cock. “Come, come!” I pleaded in his ear and then grabbed his face and kissed him. The second my tongue entered his mouth, he shuddered and let go on me. I felt his semen spurt between my breasts and I sucked his tongue and lower lip, laughing happily at the mess he’d made.

We laid on the couch for a long time. Our tea was cold, but we sipped it and curled around one another. He gathered me close to him and stroked the small of my back. I tucked my head under his chin.

“I don’t ever want to leave,” he said.

“So don’t. You want to go sleep in my bed with me?”

“Wish I could, but I can’t stay all night. Let me just hold you like this for a bit. I like how close we are on your couch. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to anyone.” He tightened his arms around me.

“I feel like a teenager again,” I said with a little laugh. “Fooling around on the couch, late at night.”

“You were doing that as a teen?”

“That and more, yeah.”

“I see,” he said and I popped my head up to frown at him. He smiled and winked at me and I rested my head again. “How old were you?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you were with a boy, or a man, for the first time. How old were you?” His voice was neutral and unreadable, but there seemed to be an undercurrent of other questions and feelings implicit in his ask.

“Well, I started kind of young, to be honest. I don’t really remember how old I was when I started fooling around sexually, but I lost my so called virginity when I was just about to be fifteen.” I licked my lips and asked, “Does that make you feel differently about me?”

“No, Daisy. There’s nothing in your past that will make me feel differently about you. I told you that before. But it does make me realize yet again how different we are, what different worlds we come from. There are worse things.”

I traced the hair on his chest down over his stomach to where it narrowed and then widened again in his thick thatch of pubic curls. “I like this,” I said, following the trim strip back up over his firm abdomen. “This spot. It’s pretty. I like your hip bones too,” I said and curved my hand over his iliac crest.

“Pretty?” He scoffed. “You should see yourself. Every inch of you is gorgeous. And your face, when you, um, when you’re having your moment of ecstasy.”

“Are you trying to say when _I come for you, Gabrie_ l?” I laughed.

“Yes,” he whispered in my ear. “When you _come_. . . I’ve never even said that before. But it’s ravishing, your face.” He stroked my jaw and gave my chin a little pinch.

“You do that to me, you know. You make me make that face when I _come for you,_ ” I was teasing him now, drawing out my words in a sultry voice.

“Was it okay,” he asked and I heard his voice deep through the walls of his chest, “when I. . . uhh, with my fingers?”

“Yeah, it was great,” I said.

“You feel like magic. I know that sounds stupid, but I don’t know any other way to put it. Inside, you’re so silky and tight.”

“Doesn’t sound stupid,” I said. I sat up on my elbow and looked down at him. “Have you never touched a woman like that before?”

“I fooled around with a couple girls in high school, but it was nothing like that. Nothing like you. You’re truly precious.”

“So this really _is_ all new to you?”

He maintained eye contact with me. When he spoke his voice was stern and serious. “Yes, Lucy. I’m a priest. I’ve been a priest since before you were even born. I made promises in the name of my faith, promises I have now broken with you. This really _is all new_ to me.”

“I’m your first,” I said wonderingly, more of a statement of awe than a question put to him. He nodded and sighed. “But you must have been attracted to women before. Weren’t you?”

“You really want to talk about this now? It’s almost one in the morning.”

“I do; I’m curious. I want to know you.” I put my hand on the space over his heart.

“I don’t know. It’s not that I never noticed women, and certainly I could acknowledge a woman’s beauty, like in a piece of art. Women are exquisite. But, it’s a mindset you develop over the course of years, decades. And at some point you just stop thinking about yourself as a sexual being.”

“Do you never even jerk off?” I was incredulous.

He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “Not frequently. No. It’s considered a violation of our celibate life to indulge in pleasures of the flesh. But there are times when I admit I’ve needed to relieve tension, or have had impure thoughts.”

“Impure thoughts?”

“When I was in Italy, there was a woman. We were drawn to each other in a very intense way. She was married and had children.”

“What was her name?”

“Sylvia. Her name was Sylvia.”

“So, I’m not your first then?” I felt my face redden as I scowled at him, as my fingers furled into a fist on his chest.

“Relax,” he said. He brought my fingers to his lips and kissed them. “It didn’t go anywhere with Sylvia. You are absolutely my first, and you’re adorable when you’re jealous.”

“Not funny,” I huffed and settled my head back onto his chest.

“I know, I know,” he soothed. “And you have nothing to worry about. There’s never been anyone else. . .not like you.”

“No one?”

“No one ever,” he sighed and gentled my head on him. We were quiet for so long, I thought he’d fallen asleep, but then he said, “It’s like your face is etched inside my eyelids now, Lucy. You’re there whenever I close my eyes, and when I open them all I want to see is you. What on earth am I supposed to do with that?” It didn’t seem like a question that begged an actual answer, so I was silent. He twirled his fingers in my hair.

“Why me?” I whispered onto his chest. My head rose and fell as he breathed deeply.

“I could ask you the same question,” he said.

“Yeah, but I asked first.”

“That’s fair,” he sighed and took a moment to compose his next thought. “It was a strange recognition. I saw you, you know, siting in the back of the church that first night. I saw you there, and I knew it had been you who had been last in the confessional. You looked so sad and angry and lost, and you looked like a precise piece of my soul that had always been missing- that I never even knew I’d lost. And suddenly that piece of my own self was returned to me. It was you.”

“That’s beautiful,” I said. We must have fallen asleep then. When I woke later, he had left and I dragged my exhausted body from the couch to my bed. Climbing under my sheet, I felt his words slide around me with a soft, but tenacious grip. I was a missing piece of someone’s soul- a rare and precious gift. It somehow made me so much more important than I’d ever been before. It imbued me with an enormous solidity, a reality, new and wondrous. I fell asleep in the clutch of those words, feeling powerful and strange.

It wasn’t until I woke and was having coffee the next morning that I realized how full of hopelessness and sorrow his voice had sounded when he’d explained why I was the one for whom he’d chosen to break his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No words to thank those of you who have read and commented or left kudos. This was initially a super short fandom related oneshot, and now it is a monster original thing. . . I never thought anyone would ever read an original piece I wrote. I would have been happy if it got like ten views and a couple kudos. But you seriously all have my heart for being so kind and generous and indulgent. xoxoxo.


	16. Chapter 16

The next few weeks passed in blurs of secret dates at restaurants out of town, picnics on secluded beaches, and epic sessions of fooling around. Because of the nature of our jobs, we both had more time and flexibility to lavish on one another during the summer. I no longer freaked out if he didn’t call me on a certain schedule, and if we went a few days, or more, without seeing one another, I was at ease. The time we spent together had a dreamy, almost tranquilizing effect on me, and I contented myself knowing I was a missing piece of him and he had found me. He had picked me up, almost as if I were a tiny piece of sea glass no one else could spot in a vast expanse of sand, and incorporated me into his very being. All I had to do was close my eyes and imagine the discreet “click” as he deposited me in a safe pocket along with all the other little bits of him.

If I stayed focused on the intimacy of our connection, I found it easy to ignore shadows of sadness around his eyes, flickers of hesitation in his voice. I chose to completely disregard the occasional reluctance in our kisses, as if we were two magnets with their same poles aligned, but gently repelling one another. It was much nicer to tick off days spent sharing ourselves, crossing activities off of a list of firsts, than thinking about how we were constantly peeking over our shoulders, scouting our every location with second and third glances.

Being with him began to feel like a home I’d never known. Despite our age difference, we seemed to have so much in common. We’d both been raised by our grandmothers. I was an only child, and he had one brother who lived in Philly with a wife and kids, but he was estranged from his brother for many years so ostensibly, he was also alone in the world. We both preferred the ocean to the mountains, although being in nature of any kind soothed both our souls.

He still wondered about my fear of swimming.

“Phobias don’t always make sense,” I shrugged, not really wanting to get into it. “Are you scared of anything?”

“As a boy, I was scared of the dark. But now it doesn’t bother me.”

“So, no fears? No phobias?”

“I don’t know. . . I guess I don’t like the idea of death very much, but I wouldn’t call it a phobia.” We were lying under a tree, looking up into the thick, layers of leaves. I rolled onto my stomach and looked down into his eyes, loving how they sparkled in the day. “What?”

“I’m trying to imagine you as a boy,” I said. “I bet you were cute.”

“Dunno about that, but I’ll show you pictures sometime, if you like,” he reached up and tugged the clip holding my hair up. It came down and fell around his face like a golden curtain. “Every time I think I’ve seen you at your most beautiful, you outdo yourself.” His voice was low, gravelly. “I could live without every other shade of blue in the entire world except the blue of your eyes.” His fingers floated over my face like a dream and I had to close my eyes. He pulled me on top of him and held me against his chest. “Do you remember the first time I held you?”

“In the water?”

“Yes. You were lighter than a doll in my arms and your hair was blazing like a beacon in the sun. So much incredible lightness. And I thought, _how perfectly she was named, Lucia, Lucy, Luciana, oh my god, how perfect.”_

“You thought that? About me?”

“Mmmh,” his lips brushed my forehead. “I couldn’t figure why God would place such a splendid creature in my very arms only to taunt me. It enraged me, the thought of having this rare gift shown to me and then having to give it back.”

“You were mad at God?”

“I was.”

“I thought you were mad at me,” I said, vividly remembering our tense paddle home that day. My brain flopped around in my skull, trying to make sense of what he said. “Are you still mad at God?”

“Sometimes, yes, but there’s other stuff now too. The guilt of what we’ve done, the fear of being caught, the constant sense that I’ll cease breathing if I can’t feel your skin. It’s a lot.”

“Sounds like I’ve gone from being light to being extra heavy,” I observed as I rolled off of him and sat up. 

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to be this weight on you, dragging you down,” I didn’t even try to hide the hurt in my voice or the angry tears that came to my eyes. "Maybe you want to reconsider giving your _rare gift_ back after all?" 

“Lucy, I’m just being honest with you. Come on,” he tugged at my hair, but I wouldn’t be appeased. I pushed him away, reached for my hair clip, and twisted my hair back up onto the top of my head. Gabe sat up. “You said you wanted to know me, well this is part of me, like it or not. I don’t want to have to hide it from you.”

I could hear him, but it was like he was talking to me from the other side of a wall, or behind a shut door. I chewed the inside of my cheek and felt the world around me breaking into shards like glass. It was difficult to focus my eyes on any one particular piece. Everything seemed too bright and the breeze felt rough against my skin. An angel fish gasped for its last breath on the grass just a few feet from me, drops of water glistening on its scales in the sun. I cried out and sprang up, walked a few paces to a tree and leaned against it, trying to catch my breath, trying to make the fish go away. I counted to ten, then twenty. By the time I got to thirty, Gabe was at my shoulder, his hands warm and reassuring on me. “I’m fine, I’m fucking fine,” I panted through my tears.

“Lucy, what happened just now?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” I sobbed and turned around to fall against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” he murmured and stroked my neck.

“I’m so sorry,” I sighed shakily. “I shouldn’t have gotten so upset.” I looked up at him anxiously to see if he was angry with me, but he just looked confused and concerned. Somehow, that seemed almost worse.

“People get upset sometimes, it’s alright,” he said, “but you looked like you went someplace else just now.”

“I think I’m just tired,” I said with a weak smile. “And the thought of making a priest angry with God and dragging him down to Hell doesn’t sit well with me for some strange reason.”

“Lucy, I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy processing what this has been like for me, I’ve barely considered how you’re feeling. How could I be so selfish?” He rubbed my arms and tilted my face up so he could look at me. “I just get so lost in you sometimes and I forget how young you are, how delicate. I’ll be more careful. . . with you. . . with us. Okay?” I nodded and he kissed me and the world started to come back together again. The air no longer burned my skin so long as he was holding and kissing me. 

And there were no more fish out of water, flipping around on the grass. 

Driving home, we listened to Beethoven and he made remarks about the music as I settled back into my own flesh and tried to figure what it was that had triggered me.

At the end of the night, when we were saying goodbye, he said, “You know, Lucy, when we become priests, we have to go through a series of classes on pastoral care and counseling. We learn quite a lot about human psychology.”

“Okay? And? Why are you telling me this?”

“Well, I’m not a psychologist, but I know enough to understand basic principles of grief, trauma, anxiety. And I know what happened to you today had something dark behind it. I’m just saying, if you need to talk, I care and I’m here.” He kissed my hand and squeezed it warmly.

“Thanks, Gabe,” I said. “I don’t want to talk, but I appreciate it, really.”

I stayed up writing and reworking chunks of the grant until I could barely focus on my computer screen. When I finally did fall asleep, it was deep and dreamless and I slept through half of the next morning.

Gabe had texted me, _Check your porch, I left you something._

Still in my pajamas, I wandered out to my porch where there was a big gift bag, overflowing with colorful tissue paper. I brought it inside and pawed through the paper to find a large, bright purple, stuffed octopus. It was so ridiculous looking I laughed out loud. There was a card with a bunch of daisies on it. Inside it read, _If I had eight arms, I would want all of them to be holding you. All my love, G._

 _Thank you, xoxoxo,_ I texted back.

It was like the day before had drifted away with the tide.


	17. Chapter 17

One night, he called while June and I ate dinner at a local restaurant. I answered my phone under the auspicious arch of her eyebrows.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started.

“Uh oh, what’s up?” I glanced at June who sipped her gin and tonic and stared relentlessly at me.

“No, it’s nothing bad. I just wanted to do something with you, or for you. Can you meet me at the church?”

I agreed immediately, but as soon as I hung up, felt the weight of having to explain myself to my best friend descend over me like a wet towel. “Okay, you’re going to think I’m totally crazy cakes and you’re probably right, but here’s the deal,” I explained the situation to her.

“The priest?” She said incredulously. “Father Dark and Stormy?”

“Shhh,” I hushed, and looked anxiously around the restaurant. Since we were in town, it was completely conceivable his parishioners could be among us. “He’s not dark or stormy either. He’s really sweet. I mean, obviously you have to keep this top secret. This goes in the vault, June.”

“But, _the priest_? You’re having an affair with a man of the cloth? Like sexually?” She asked and leaned in to me and trying to see if I was being straight with her. I nodded and shrugged. “Uhhh, well, it’s not the weirdest thing you’ve ever done, but Lucylu, like I’ve got to ask, what the actual fuck?”

“I know,” I said and put my face in my hands. “I know, it’s a lot! But can I just say, it’s also incredible. He’s like this soul mate or something; I can’t even explain it really, but when we’re together it just works. He’s kind and smart and he-“

“Is old enough to be your father, and oh did we mention, he’s _a priest!_ ” She hissed fiercely.

“Look, I know it’s unconventional,” I said defensively.

“You think? I mean where is this headed? Is he going to leave the priesthood?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I would even want that. It’s just a thing right now and I’m happy. Fuck, can’t I be happy for a little bit without being judged? See? This is why I didn’t even want to tell you.”

June jabbed a finger at me. “Do not go there. You know me better than that and you know I’m the last person to judge anyone’s life choices, dubious or not. I’m not judging you, but I worry, Lu. We’ve been in some dark shit and I will knife a bitch before I ever let you go back there.”

I huffed out an annoyed laugh and shook my head. “Give me a little credit, Jesus.” I hated sounding like a petulant teenager, like I used to sound when I argued with my grandmother about her not letting me go to a concert.

“I do want you to be happy. If you’re happy, I’m happy. I just want you to be safe.”

“I am. I promise,” I insisted and tried to smile even though I still seethed at her reaction.

“Ooooohkay, then. The heart wants what the heart wants,” she shrugged and we clinked glasses in a toast.

At the church, he led me up a narrow flight of stairs to the choir loft. Next to the enormous pipe organ was an upright piano. He was still dressed in his black attire, and our greeting had been a bit stiff and formal.

“So, what am I doing up here?” I asked.

“I was hoping I could play for you,” he said.

“For real?”

“Yes, is that too corny? Ugh, maybe this was a stupid idea,” he seemed embarrassed.

“No! Oh my god, I would love to hear you play. Are you kidding? Please!” No one had ever played actual instruments in my presence, specifically for me before. I grinned foolishly. He sat down on the piano bench, spread out some music and began to play what seemed to be a rather complex, classical piece. I watched his fingers fly over the piano keys, creating layers of sound that echoed throughout the church. It made me almost dizzy. When he finished, I clapped and shook my head. “Wow!”

“You liked it?” He turned around on the bench.

“Seriously? It was amazing. The sound!”

“Thanks. I thought about bringing you to my place to play there for you, but then I thought the acoustics here would just be so much more impressive.”

“Well color me impressed, Father Gabriel,” I said coyly.

“Somehow that doesn’t sound right coming out of those lips,” he frowned and grabbed my wrist. Pulling me onto the piano bench next to him, he touched my mouth with his fingertips. I bit them gently. “Here, listen to this. I’ve been wanting to play this one for you forever.”

He played again, but this time it was not a classical piece. I recognized the bluesy chords of the song, but couldn’t quite place it until he started singing, _Sumertime, time, time, Child the livings easy_. . . and then I realized he was performing his own rendition of another type of classic. It was the Gershwin song, Summertime from Porgy and Bess, but in the vein of Janis Joplin. He made his voice smoky and gruff as he sang, “One of these mornings, you’re gonna rise up singing. . . You’re gonna spread your wings and take, take to the sky, but until that morning, honey, nothing’s gonna harm you now. . .” He looked at me as he sang this verse and his eyes dragged me under their sweet honey as his voice swirled up to the rafters of the church. I put a hand on his thigh, massaged and distracted him so he tripped up a few notes, shook his head with a big smile, and tried again. He finished singing “So hush, little baby, don’t you cry,” through smiling lips and I giggled.

“That was nice,” I leaned against him and moved my fingers in the crease of his inner thigh. He moaned softly and inched even closer. I threaded my arms around his waist and pulled him toward me. He felt hard and soft all at once, and I felt powerful with his pliability in my hands. Desire swirled from my heart to my stomach and then even lower. We didn’t kiss, just let our lips linger over one another on our breath. “I fucking want you so bad,” I whispered.

“Oh?” He breathed.

“Fuck, yeah,” I whimpered and licked at his lips.

“Swearing in my church should not be as sexy as you make it,” he commented. My eyes were closed, but my lips felt him smiling against mine. My brain worked a mile a minute, trying to figure how we could get back to my bed before we both came untouched right there in the church.

Suddenly, the sound of an opening door and clicking heels startled us. “Father Gideon?” A voice called. I instinctively jumped away from him. Thankfully, the sturdy railing around the loft kept me from toppling into the pews below.

“Should I hide?” I hissed, looking around me for a place to crawl under or behind.

“No, shh,” Gabe hushed with a little wave of his hand. “Up here, Linda,” he called out. There was a staccato beat of shoes on the stairs leading up to the choir loft.

“Oh, here you are! I knew I heard your voice and that fabulous playing.” An older woman with perfectly coiffed crimson curls stood before us. She was petite, dressed in a pale yellow sweater set and khaki skirt.

“Yes, here I am,” Gabe said with a completely relaxed smile. I couldn’t help glancing at his crotch to see if his erection had subsided, and I couldn’t tell, but I guessed it had.

“Hello there,” the woman said looking at me and then back to Gabe.

“Hi,” I muttered.

“Linda, this is Lucy. Lucy, this is my administrative assistant, Linda.” We shook hands and she stared at me as if waiting for an explanation for what I was doing there. Gabe helped the process by saying, “Lucy is a new parishioner here, and she is considering joining our choir and raising a joyful voice to the Lord. I was just showing her around.”

“Ahhh, of course,” Linda smiled and clasped her hands over her breast as she turned to me. “Father Gideon is a masterful chorister. It’s a shame he can’t do it full time; we all say it. But with all his other responsibilities,” she turned back to Gabe. “Speaking of which, Father, the mailing that is supposed to go out on Monday has a slight glitch. I’d tried calling you and couldn’t reach you, so I came back to try to reason with it. But since you’re here, maybe you can advise?”

“Of course,” Gabe said without skipping a beat. He turned to me. “Lucy, I apologize, but duty calls. I do hope you’ll consider our music ministry.” I could have sworn he winked at me.

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Nice to meet you, Linda,” I smiled as sweetly as I could at her and made my way down the stairs of the loft and out of the church. When I got my car, I realized I was shaking. I drove home.

It seemed like a run was in order, but I dug my secret pack of cigarettes out of the kitchen drawer and poured myself a full glass of wine which I drank in almost one gulp. I poured another and went out to my back deck. I didn’t turn on the light. I sat in the darkness and smoked. I poured myself another glass of wine. I watched the ruddy ember of my cigarette, listening but not really hearing the crickets and sounds of night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this story started out as a one shot and has taken on a life of its own. . . I hope people are still enjoying it, and please know I positively LIVE for your comments. It's been wonderful connecting with you and getting to know some of you. Please feel free to come and find me on Tumblr as ScarletteStar, if you are so inclined!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, my lovelies. This chapter is a bit of a bumpy ride. . .

Gabe called within an hour of my leaving the church. I answered from my back deck. I’d finished the bottle of wine and was more than tipsy.

“I am so sorry about that,” he said. “Can I come over?”

“Yeah, of course,” I answered. I went inside to wait for him. In a matter of moments, he was at my door. He’d changed from his priest suit to jeans and an untucked button down. He looked normal, casually handsome. He tried to hug me, but I was stiff in his embrace.

“That is an unhappy face. Tell me how I can make this up to you,” he said before he even greeted me. With fierce intensity and insistence, he gathered me to him and stroked my hair.

“Is everything okay?” I wondered.

“Yes. Yes, of course it is. Linda and I fixed the mailing and she didn’t even ask about you. It’s fine. Don’t worry.” He tried to kiss me, but for once, I was the one who turned my face away. “You smell like smoke. Have you been smoking? Do you smoke?”

“And if I do?”

“No, it’s nothing. It’s fine. I thought you were a runner and runners don’t usually smoke, that’s all.” He tried to hug me again. “What? Tell me.”

I pushed away from him and took a fresh bottle of wine from the fridge. For a couple minutes, I was relieved to have the distraction of opening it so I didn’t have to talk to him or even look at him. I poured us glasses and handed him one. “It’s just I. . .” my mouth was dry. I sipped my wine but my mouth still felt dry, like it was about to get sticky with the need to vomit. I drained my glass. “I’d never heard you lie to anyone about us.”

He pushed his glasses up and looked at me for a full moment, sipped his wine, and said, “I didn’t know what else to say. I’m sorry.”

“I get it. You’re sorry,” my heart raced with the risk of being annoyed with him, or the risk of him being annoyed with me.

“I couldn’t very well introduce you to her as the woman of my dreams or the love of my life, could I?”

“Love of your life?” I said and peered up at him, contemplating if I would take his bait.

“Well aren’t you? _Love of my life, fire of my loins? My sin, my soul_?” He was trying to be funny, but I was getting pissed.

“So now I’m Lolita? Shit, Gabe, I know I’m younger than you but I’m not a fucking nymphet, for Christ’s sake.”

“Okay, I should have known better than to make a joke of it."

“I mean, I don’t know, maybe being Lolita is a little better than being your new parishioner who wants to _raise a joyful voice to the lord._ Fuck! I don’t even fucking believe in God, Gabe and you have me singing in the choir? Is that your little fantasy for me? You want me to be a good little church girl?” I glowered at him.

“Of course not.”

“I just feel dirty. Like I’m this dirty, ugly secret and you, well, _you lied_ Gabe. And not just that, you lied really well. I didn’t ever imagine a priest could lie so smoothly.”

“Not my finer moment, I admit,” he sighed heavily.

“Trust is not my most naturally felt emotion. I trust like two people in the world, you know? Watching you lie so easily. . .”

“I understand. You can trust me. I will never lie to you. I was trying to protect what we have. Can you believe that? Can you at least trust that?” He reached for my hand and I let him hold it. He brought my fingers to his chest, where his shirt was open and touched them to him, slid them down over his heart. His heart beat, strong and fast beneath my own hand, but I didn’t quite yield. “Look, I don’t blame you for being upset. It was crazy for me to have you there, like that.”

“It wasn’t crazy. It was really sweet, until it wasn’t.” We wandered into my living room and sat on the sofa.

“Tell me how to fix it,” he said and touched my collar bone. “I’ll do anything to make you happy right now.”

“Anything?” I asked and suppressed a little smirk.

“Anything,” he murmured against my lips.

“Stay with me,” I whispered back on him.

“Yes,” he replied.

“The whole night. Stay with me here. I want to wake up in your arms.”

“Yes,” he repeated and mouthed my neck and shoulder. “God, your skin. . . I can breathe,” he mumbled and I climbed into his lap. We kissed for a while, like we usually did, and our hands found their ways, like dancing snakes up inside our shirts. He pinched my nipple and I bit his neck, hard. His breath hitched sharply and stood with me in his arms, carried me to my bedroom. He placed me with a slight bounce on my bed. I smiled up at him.

Certainly all was forgiven.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I said and rolled off the bed. I’ll be right back. As I walked out my bedroom door, I mentioned over my shoulder, “There’s some candles and a lighter if you want to set a mood.”

I slipped into my bathroom and shimmied out of my shorts, shirt, bra and underpants. I peed and brushed my teeth quickly, hoping he wouldn’t taste the smoke on me when I returned. On the back of my bathroom door hung a silky, black lace nightgown. I put it on and pulled my hair out of its bun, fluffed it over my shoulders. I bit my lips until they were plump and thought about him in my room, in my bed, and I was suddenly dripping wet and desperate to get back to him.

He was naked and under the covers, his clothes folded neatly and placed in a square on top of the chest at the end of my bed. He’d lit all the candles and the room glowed. “Hey you,” I said as I climbed into bed next to him. We savored the sensation of our bodies stretched long and warm together, entwined out legs arms. It was the first time we had been in an actual bed.

“This is fancy,” he said and ran a finger over the lace of my nightie. “But I like you better just naked. Can we take it all off?” I nodded and kneeled in the bed, eased one strap of the gown and then the other over my shoulder, let it slip over my breasts, down to my hips. I stood up on my bed and stepped out of it, picking up the black silk on my foot and kicking it over the edge of the bed. He watched it all, hard as a rock. I stepped over his hips and sank back down to my knees, straddling him, pressing his cock against my wet pussy, and rocking back and forth on him. He sat up and wrapped his arms around me, rolled me over so he was on top.

Immediately, but gently, his mouth was on my breasts, licking around my nipples, nibbling and sucking the fleshy sides. He kissed his way down to my navel, circled it with his tongue and then sank lower until he crouched between my legs. I spread a bit wider and he licked my inner thighs. He used his fingers to play with and part my vulva and then he started lapping me with his tongue. It was the first time he’d done it to me, and I arched my back at the shocking pleasure it sent racing through me. With a couple minor adjustments, I helped guide his mouth to my clit, but as soon as he felt my throbbing bundle of nerves, he enthusiastically went at me with his tongue and even his teeth. I’d never felt anything like it. He seemed to intuit exactly how I wanted him to lick me, long and lazy, slow and pressured so I could feel every drag and bump of his tongue. I grabbed the sheets and writhed against his chin. He made me come, fast and hard, and rested his mouth on me as I spasmed beneath it.

When I pulled him up on top of me, I whispered, “Fuck me now and I’ll come again for you,” and I opened my legs to take his cock in me.

“No, Baby,” he said and started to rub off on my hip.

“Please, Gabe,” I moaned. “I want you inside of me. I want you so bad.”

He responded by slipping two of his fingers in me and kissing my neck. “You have me. I’m right here. Come on Baby, I’m getting there. Kissing you like that made me wild. Do it, come with me, do it.” He fucked me with his fingers and curled them to make me scream so loud he muffled my mouth with his own lips. The second I ran my tongue over his, he thrust himself against me and spilled. “Oh it feels incredible! What you do to me,” he groaned hoarsely and it was so erotic I let go on his fingers, took them in me up to his last knuckle and bit his lower lip as I came.

“Are you sure you’ve never gone down on a woman before,” I asked as we settled into each other’s arms.

“My first time, promise,” he said.

“That felt. . . I mean, wow, Gabe. I saw stars. You’re a natural. But. . . did you enjoy it?”

“You’re a dream,” he whispered. “I felt so close to you, kissing you there, feeling you beat against my mouth like you were made of butterfly wings. I’m gonna want to do that to you all the time now.”

“Mmmh, that makes me happy,” I sighed.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m happy right now. I don’t want this feeling to ever end. I don’t even want to go to sleep and miss a minute of it,” I stroked his chest. He took my hand and kissed my fingers.

“You won’t miss anything,” he said. “Have sweet dreams and I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Waking up next to Gabe seemed completely natural, like we’d been doing it for years. His hair was messy and my eyes were puffy, but neither of us seemed to mind. He said he had to be at church for a morning meeting, so I got up to put coffee on while he started his shower. After the coffee was brewing, I snuck into the shower and put my arms around him from behind. His cock was hard before I even got it in my hands. I rubbed my breasts on his back and reached down to tickle under his balls. He put both his hands on the tile wall in front of him to brace himself and let me stroke him, slowly, teasingly.

“How were you celibate for so long? You’re insatiable,” I whispered in his ear, standing on tip toes to nip at his neck. At this he turned around, wrapped his arms around me and pressed his erection between our bellies.

“It’s you. I catch the slightest glimpse of you and suddenly, I’m harder than stone. Feel that?”

“I do,” I sighed and felt the heat of his shaft on my hip. Instinctively, I brought my leg up and wrapped it around his waist and tried to angle him toward my opening.

“No,” he whispered, but he put a hand under my leg and used his other hand to rub his cock head on my clit. “You like that, that feels good, right?” He always seemed to seek reassurance that whatever he did felt unbelievable. In fact, he already had me so close, I could barely speak. He used his blunt tip on me in slow circles and I hung on his neck. I was getting ready to come, and as my energy built, I managed to slide his cock fully into me. My eyes opened wide at the sudden sensation of fullness. He was almost too much for me to take, and yet I took him all, whined in satisfaction as I started pulsating orgasmically around him. He touched every inch inside of me and it was breathtaking.

For a moment, he lingered, pumped in and out a couple times, then pulled out and shoved me away. I slipped on the slick floor of the tub and caught myself before I fell. “Dammit, Lucy, I said no!” He rinsed remaining soap off his body and got out of the shower. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying not to feel my pussy spasm.

In a state of numb confusion bordering on horror, I quickly washed off. By the time I came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, he was already dressed and putting on his shoes. He sat on the edge of my bed. “I’m sorry?” I offered.

“I have to go,” his voice was hard, his cheeks flushed with anger.

“Gabe,” I started. My brain tried to formulate something coherent and fair, but what came out was, “What the fuck?”

“I told you I didn’t want to do that,” he sputtered. “What you did was disrespectful. A huge boundary violation.” He looked like someone else with his slick, wet hair and his scornful face.

I licked my lips. My mouth was simultaneously dry and clammy, and my eyesight blurred around the edges. “I didn’t mean to violate you, Gabe. Damn! You’re treating me like a fucking rapist or something!”

“Look, I think it’s best if I just leave for the time being.”

“But I don’t understand! I-"

“What, Lucy? What don’t you understand?” He was truly angry. His neck was red and his hands splayed at his hips. This time, he was definitely angry with someone besides God. Looking from his hands to his face, I swallowed my fear and quickly calculated my options.

_Fight. Flight. Freeze._

_Fight. Fight. Fight!_

Adrenaline surged, tensed all my muscles and made my stomach tingle in a hot gust that spread up to my brain.

“Well, for starters, why don’t you want to fuck me? It’s what people in a relationships do.” I made my voice hard to keep it from shaking. My fingers balled the edges of my towel.

“Relationship? We are not just two people in your average, everyday relationship here, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You think I don’t realize that? I’m not a fucking child, Gabe. I want to feel close to you. I want to feel you inside of me. Why is that so appalling to you? Is it your fucking religion? Is that what’s holding you back and making you control every single aspect of our time together? Cuz I’m sort of over it, I gotta tell you.”

He looked up at the ceiling and shook his head, snorted an angry laugh, and wandered out of my bedroom. I followed him to the kitchen. “Do you know what a disaster it would be if I got you pregnant? Not just for me, but knowing what you’ve been through?”

“You don’t know the half of what I’ve been through, _Father Gideon_ ,” I snapped. My hair dripped in my face. I clutched my towel around me.

“No, I don’t because you never want to talk about it,” he breathed heavily as he snatched his keys off the counter. “I’m leaving now.”

“You know what? Fuck you then. Go.” I turned from him and walked back to my bedroom, slammed the door and threw myself on my bed. I was too angry to cry. I listened to the quiet click of the door closing behind him, and the turning over of his car’s engine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok ok ok... sorry I was so mean to my babies here. but please don't come for me with the pitchforks just yet. . . let's work on our trust in one another, k? xoxoxoxo.
> 
> PS, the line "Love of my life, fire of my loins? My sin, my soul..." comes from the novel Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. Credit where credit is due.


	19. Chapter 19

I couldn’t bear to tell June she’d been right about the situation with Gabe.

_Situation._

Somehow, in the blink of an eye, our idyllic affair became a _situation_ , something needing damage control and a public relation spin with my best friend. I couldn’t bear to look at it, so I shoved it to the back of my closet with the stupid stuffed octopus he’d given me. Keeping it all in the dark was better for everyone.

If I left it there long enough, I’d get over whatever I felt, could report back to June, and we could laugh at what a fool I’d been after all. That wouldn’t be so bad.

Anger gave me traction, kept me in forward motion. Anger kept me from checking my phone every four seconds and wishing he would call. Over the next week, I ran every day, despite the sweltering August heat. I took long walks on the beach by myself and sat in the sand as darkness gathered around me. Sitting alone under the moon comforted me as much as it tore my heart in different directions. It was easy to not think about Gabe, until it wasn’t. Then he was the only thought in my mind. He endlessly looped, became larger until he filled my entire field of vision. I could practically see him projected like constellations on the night sky. The instinct to get up and run filled me, but I sat still and followed one star to the next while I replayed everything, right up until the last moment.

It had been foolish for me to think he would have wanted me, or that it had been something more than a game to him. Hadn’t it been proven over and over that I couldn’t be loved? Being alone was practically my birthright. It was tricky, how Gabe managed to make me forget for a moment in time. I realized he’d subliminally made me imagine maybe he could make things better because that’s how I felt when I was near him. All the layers of scar tissue didn’t throb quite as much when he held me.

He had said when he held me, when he touched my skin he could breathe. _What the fuck did that even mean?_ Part of me wanted to ambush him and demand answers. _Why had he said those things if he didn’t mean them?_ Turned out, I didn’t really care what it meant, I just wanted to hear him say it again. Giving someone breath in their body seemed important, seemed to bestow upon me a certain power and significance. _Did he really not care?_ He’d been so angry at me. It was possible the anger eclipsed any other fondness he’d ever felt toward me. That was what I wanted, just the pure, white, hot anger that incinerated any other emotion that tried to take its place. I didn’t want to feel sad. I was the one who told him to fuck off. I was in control. I did this and I would live with it.

I finished one of the grants and met with Tim and Raffe for a celebratory lunch. Together, we pressed the send button on our email with the completed application. Tim got us in to the aquarium and we spent the afternoon watching sea lions bask in the sun while laughing in almost giddy relief at our accomplishment. Tim offered to get me passes to visit the beluga whales, but I politely declined. “I wouldn’t want Luke to think I was cheating on him with a mammal,” I joked, when really the thought of standing waist deep in frigid water so close to a forty foot tank terrified me. At one point, Tim went to speak with another volunteer and Raffe rolled his eyes at me.

“What?” I chuckled.

“When are you going to put that poor boy out of his misery?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He is so smitten with you! You are all he talks about when we are supposed to be working. He’s a little goofy, but he’d make a really sweet boyfriend, Lucy.” Raffe winked at me. “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do! And that’s nice. I truly respect him, but I’m just not in a place right now where I am looking to be in a relationship.” I hedged and conveniently ended the conversation. It was just as well we didn’t speak further on the matter, because Tim came jogging back toward us with a toothy grin and proudly announced he was able to get us back to visit with Luke. Raffe looked at his watch and said his husband was expecting him for a faculty end-of-summer get together, so that just left Tim and me.

Tim handed me a visitor badge and led me back through a door marked “Employees Only”. We took off our watches and I removed the assortment of rings I wore. The main octopus handler helped take the special lid off of Luke’s tank and I approached it with a sense of serenity and awe. Tim and I climbed up the steps and peered down cautiously into Luke’s watery den. “Where’s my handsome guy,” I said softly. Even though there was no way Luke could have heard me, no sooner did I ask my question than he stretched up a brownish arm and raised his face to the pool’s surface. “Hello, Darling,” I cooed and slowly reached for the tip of his tentacle. He opened his eye to check me out. We touched gently and tentatively, as we re-attuned ourselves to one another. After a moment, he encircled my wrist and I felt his suction cups begin to evaluate me. Patiently, I allowed him to taste and feel me through my skin. The sensation of his exploration lulled me so I didn’t even notice he’d changed colors.

“Hey, Lucy. Alrighty, let’s get him off of you,” the handler said calmly. Luke’s skin was bright red, which is often the color octopuses turn when they become angry or agitated.

“I think he’s okay,” I said, not looking away from the cephalopod’s grip on me, not breaking our communion. I tried to explain Luke didn’t feel at all aggressive. His grip on me was firm but not frightening or alarming in the slightest.

“All the same,” Tim came over with some squid. He and the handler lured Luke away and I climbed off the stairs.

“Until next time Lukey,” I crooned as I backed away from his tank. My arm was cold from his icy water, and he’d left a circular pattern on my skin which would fade within an hour or so. I watched him devour his squid and slink back behind his cave in a flow of curling tentacles. By the time he’d reached his corner of rocks and coral, he’d changed back to a neutral orange-brown and furled all his arms around him like he was done for the day. “Hmmph. I know the feeling, buddy,” I whispered. Again, it was not possible he could hear me but he curled one of his tentacles closer to his body, as if he had.

Tim and I got ice cream and watched the penguins. “Weird how he changed color like that,” I commented. “He really did not feel aggressive though.”

“Luke tends to be a pretty mellow guy,” Tim agreed. “But it’s always better to be safe than sorry.” He licked around his cone and thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Have you been angry or upset lately? Maybe he was picking up on something in you.”

“Do you think that’s possible?” For obvious reasons, I didn’t mention my falling out with Gabe, but I did mention I hadn’t smoked or done any weed in over a week. Sometimes octopuses react to the chemical content in our systems. We both agreed we didn’t think it was that.

“I don’t think he thought you tasted toxic or anything. I dunno. Maybe he was picking up on something you don’t even realize fully. Octopus are mystical beings. They seem to know things that they shouldn’t know.” Tim shrugged and smiled at me. His bright blue eyes squinted in the sun. I thought of Gabe telling me he could live without every other shade of blue in the world but the blue of my eyes. I thought of screaming at him in my kitchen, of how red his face was when he grabbed his keys and left. And just like that, my anger floated away and was replaced by vast emptiness. It happened quicker than clicking the send button on our grant, and it was absolute.

I thanked Tim for a great day and he walked me to my car. “You owe me that dinner now,” he said and I smiled, choking back a savage storm of tears. I let him hug me at my car because I was suddenly desperate for human contact, to be held, to feel just a little less alone, but being in Tim’s arms did nothing to assuage my grief.

As soon as Tim left, I composed and deleted a text to Gabe, still sitting in the parking lot of the aquarium. I tried to think of what I could say.

_What did I even want to say?_

_What did I need to say?_

I drove home with tears and snot steadily streaming down my face. When I finally entered my apartment, I shook like I was coming down from a drug, or drying out after a big night in the city. My stomach heaved and the terror of puking punched me in the gut. Doubling over, I could practically smell my own bile. I grabbed my phone and started to call June to dispatch me some gummies, but realized if she saw me like this, I’d have to explain the _situation._

I tried calling Gabe. He didn’t answer. I didn’t leave a message. I tried calling again. And again.

No answer.

The walls of my apartment melted around me like plastic in heat. There was barely a breath of air. I had to escape. Hastily, I changed into a light, pink sundress and smeared makeup on my face to diminish the puffiness of past hours spent crying. I spritzed perfume oil onto my pulse points and grabbed my keys.

The Bento Box was quiet as usual on a Wednesday night. I sat at the bar and quickly drank two fruity martinis while I waited for my food, all the while checking my phone to see if Gabe texted or returned any of my calls. When the server brought my plate of sushi, I ordered sake. I’d ordered mostly vegetarian rolls, and the cold sake with its hints of lemongrass and coconut, complimented it nicely. After I finished my light meal, I was more than buzzed. I tried calling Gabe again, and again got no answer. Checking my watch, I realized it was not quite seven and the fact he was likely sitting in the confessional slapped me across the face. Stumbling out of the restaurant, I drove to his church.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twice in one day?? Whaaattt??? 
> 
> Yup. Here's a little, sweet reward for reading up until this point. Keep minding the tags. . . I am adding things as needed, as we go. . . xoxoxo....
> 
> Also please note I also posted chapter 19 today as well, so if you haven't read that one, make sure you do to catch up!!

In the dim lights of the church, I felt inconspicuous, almost invisible. I huddled in a secluded pew and waited until all the few other penitents had completed their business. Walking to the warm, velvet box, a part of me still worried perhaps it wasn’t Gabe on the other side of the screen and another priest was hearing the woes of the world tonight. But as soon as I entered and pulled the curtain closed around me, I could smell him. The rich, buttery amber of his skin filled my nasal cavities with shocking certainty.

No longer invisible, and fully anxious, I took my place on the kneeler in front of the screen. He opened it. Although I was silent, a recognition took place between us, mutual and strange. Like holy visitation, I felt it transpire.

“You shouldn’t be here,” his voice rumbled in my ear, rusty chains of an anchor being sent down to sea.

“You didn’t answer my calls,” I reasoned, my voice a pale wind. We fell silent again. I put my hand up on the screen between us, pressed my forehead against it. He responded in kind. At the heat of his touch, even through metal, I whimpered involuntarily. “Gabe,” I whispered, trying to stroke his face through the screen. He backed away from me. “So this is just it then? You don’t want me anymore?” I hiccuped on the sob in my throat. Sitting back on my heels, I wondered where it had all gone, and what I could do to get it back. I was just opening my mouth to speak when he closed the window and I was completely alone.

Mouth agape, I twisted at the end of my line of anger and indignation, holding one last thread of grief, and one last thread of fear. But I had done this. I told him to fuck off and get out. He only did what I had asked of him. In the end, I rationalized as I stood and prepared to walk out of the church forever, he was to be commended.

Brushing my hands over the front of my dress, I took a deep breath. Just as I reached to pull back the curtain, the screen opened again.

“Walk out of your booth and come around the corner,” he said. Wordlessly, I complied, making my way around the gothic, wooden structure to find the door behind which he sat. I heard a click as he unlocked it. When I entered, it was as small as the side I’d been on. He’d closed the little window to the other side. It was dark and red and plush. “Close the door,” he ordered. I did and leaned back against it. Maybe it was the mix of sake and martinis coursing my veins, but I suddenly felt dizzy and didn’t trust my own legs. I was grateful for the firm wall behind me. My eyes glazed at the sight of him. He sat with his hands folded on his lap. He was dressed in his black cassock which went all the way up to his neck so I couldn’t even see the white square of his clerical collar. His face was drawn and he looked like he hadn’t trimmed his beard in the days since I’d seen him, but he was beautiful and severe. My fingers twitched in the folds of my dress.

Gabe rose from his velvet throne, and because of the closeness of the space, his nearness was immediate.

“Forgive me,” I murmured and cupped his face in my hands. “Please.” I stroked the sides of his beard and his temples.

“Lucy,” he put his hands on my waist and pulled me against him. “I can’t forgive you." I started crying softly. He hushed me and kissed my face. “Look at me,” he said. I did as he asked, opening my eyes wide and getting pulled on his rugged current into his gaze. “I can’t forgive you because there is nothing to forgive. We misunderstood one another.”

“I missed you,” I sobbed. He continued inspecting me, turning my face to look at me from different angles, as if he’d never seen me before.

“Strange,” he said. “I believed I’d never see you again, and yet you haunted me every second we were apart. I don’t know how you had time to miss me, you were so occupied filling my every thought.” he touched his nose to mine.

“Is that true?” I trembled.

“Yes,” he replied. “You’re like this second soul who resides inside of me now.” He rubbed my bottom lip with his thumb and licked my jaw up to my ear which he nipped and suckled. His teeth clattered against my silver earring, but he persisted until I cried out from the heated arousal it stoked in me. He held my head close against his mouth and whispered, “Do you want me inside of you?”

“Yes, Gabe. I want it so much,” I wept. “I want you. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He held me at arms length and regarded me. I nodded eagerly. He sat back down on his bench. “Kneel, Baby,” he murmured. At first I thought he was going to make me pray with him, but as I knelt between his knees, he parted his cassock and unbuckled his pants. He pulled them down with his boxers and released his massive cock. He was nearly completely erect and we hadn’t even kissed. He looked at his dick, then at me with a little nod. I watched his Adams Apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, maybe anxiously or uncertainly. His eyes were soft and filled with questions. _Can I trust you? Do you truly desire me? Can you care for me? Can you give me pleasure if I give you control?_

I didn’t need any more encouragement or motivation for the challenge before me. “Yes,” I vowed in answer to his chorus of unasked questions, and lowered myself onto the crimson cushions at his feet.

I pushed his robe and pants aside as far as I could, and caressed his thighs. He tensed his legs and gripped the edge of the bench until his fingers went white. I kissed one hand, then the other to let him know it was alright. Looking up, I found he’d thrown his head back against the wall of the cell, and clenched his jaw. I blew a soft gust of my breath on him and he shook. I rubbed his legs and tummy, tenderly, encouraging him to relax. His eyes met mine, as my fingers worked their way around his beautiful member. He bit his lower lip and watched me stroke his length. By the time I touched him, he was fully hard, leaking over my fingers. He still gripped the edge of the bench like he’d fly off it if he released at all. I pried one of his hands off and slipped it down the loose front of my dress so he could fondle one of my breasts. When he touched me, he sighed and I smiled as I sensed him relax.

Inching closer on my knees, I stroked him in the firm, slow grip I’d learned he liked. I’d never been this close to him, and in the dim light of the sin box, I examined his every detail. His cock was thick, framed by a thick bush of almost auburn curls, and his engorged skin was darker than the inside of his thighs. His head seemed perfectly heart shaped, divided symmetrically by his slit which continuously produced a lovely sheen of arousal. I lowered my face and flicked the underside of his head with just the tip of my tongue. He shuddered silently. Smiling, I dragged my tongue through his slit and tasted the complex melange of his semen. Not breaking eye contact with him, I licked my lips, made a show of how delicious he tasted to me. And he did. He tasted like salted caramel and beer. I wanted more. I slapped him lightly on my tongue, then took his head in my mouth and rubbed it inside of my cheek.

He made a strange noise, as though he had something caught in his throat, and then he whispered, “Please,” and stroked my face. Almost painful vulnerability painted his features. I nodded and took as much of him in my mouth as I could. His fingers knitted in my hair but he didn’t even try to pull me back and forth on him. He let me set the pace and pressure, while I attempted to make my mouth imitate what he liked my hands to do, or what he enjoyed doing against my body. I sucked and rubbed the fleshy underside of his cock with my tongue. He took one hand away from my head to take off his glasses and I peeked up to find him watching intently.

I worked my mouth up to his tip and then sank back down over him, taking him deep in my throat and swallowing around him until he cried out. I pumped his shaft with my hand and felt him get ready to finish, but I squeezed his base, holding him off and making him squirm in frustrated anticipation. Pulling back up, I lapped my tongue around his head while he groaned and tried to get back in my mouth. When I did encompass him again within my lips, I released my grip on his root and submerged a finger in his asshole as gingerly as I possibly could. He didn’t resist for even a second, and when I flexed my finger to touch his prostate, he juddered on the bench and cried out. I looked up and locked eyes with him. He tried to pull out of my mouth, being polite or not knowing what was expected, I suppose, but I sank down on him, took him even deeper into the recess of my throat and again swallowed around him. The stimulation of my finger in his ass and my throat constricting around him was too intense. With a series of breathy groans, he coated my throat and I took it all.

His hole seemed to expel my finger with the force of his climax, but I kept my lips around him until his cum stopped flowing and he began to soften. Licking my lips, I let go of his prick with a lusty pop, at which he winced slightly. Still on my knees, I gazed up at him. With shaking hands, he touched my cheeks and brushed over my jaw. He pulled me from my knees and onto his lap. He looked at my lips which were swollen with the effort I’d just put into adoring him, and touched them reverently prior to kissing me.

“What have you done,” he gasped.

“What do you mean?” I asked anxiously. “I thought you wanted-“

“My God, I love you!!” He interrupted me. “What have you done? What have you done?” He muttered over my face and licked my lips as he clutched me so hard I thought maybe I’d stop breathing.


	21. Chapter 21

“You said you love me.” 

I managed to ignore his declaration for the time it took him to go to his office, change, and meet me at my apartment. I had planned to not bring it up at all. The guy just had his first blowie, so maybe he was just saying stuff in the heat of the moment. It might be nice to give him a one off, gracious even. 

But I kept hearing it over and over again, My God, I love you! It was like a scar I just couldn’t leave alone. 

“I did,” he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. I thought his explanation for why it wasn’t really true was coming, but he put his glasses back on and said. “I do.” He dropped his hands by his sides and shrugged. “I do,” he mouthed the words, seemed to have a hard time finding actual voice for them. 

“Wow. I mean, wow.” My brain couldn’t make any more words at that moment, so I paced in front of him. I opened my mouth but nothing came out so I simply shook my head and walked out to my deck. He followed me. I lit a bunch of candles to keep the bugs away. The herbal scent permeated the air. We sat on the glider and he angled his body toward me, put his hands on my knees. 

“It’s a lot. I know. I’m sorry if it rattled you. You don’t have to say anything about it, and I won’t say it again. You just. . . well, you really shook the ground beneath me tonight.”

“So, was it. . . did you just say it because I did that to you?” 

“No!” He answered quickly and rubbed his fingers between my brows, trying to soothe my scowl. “I said it because it’s true. It’s what I feel. It’s what I felt. This past week, being without you, Lucy, was the most alone and lost I’ve ever felt in my life. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I didn’t think you’d ever want to look at me again, let alone. . .” he hunched over on his knees and I wondered if he was going to cry. I put my hand on his back. “I couldn’t pray,” he muttered to the ground between his knees. “I couldn’t even pray.” 

“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” I said. A sickening thrill of power and terror gripped me, like I was at the pinnacle of a roller coaster about to plummet toward earth. 

“Oh, Lucia, you didn’t make me feel that way. My feelings are mine. You didn’t do anything. You didn’t have to. My heart craves you.” 

“Wow,” I said again.

“Damn, I’m probably not making this any better right now. A gentleman knows when to take his leave, and although I haven’t always behaved as such, I will try to conduct myself with some dignity now.” He stood.

“What? You’re leaving?”

“Don’t you want me to?”

“No, I don’t,” I snatched his hand and pulled him back onto the glider. Throwing my legs over his, I curled against him and he rocked us back and forth. “Now you can’t go,” I joked. He asked what I’d done over the past week and I told him about the grant and about seeing Luke. I told him how Luke had turned bright red while clasping my wrist with his suckers. 

“Does that mean something when they change colors?”

“It can. Sometimes they are changing to camouflage, but other times they are just in their feelings. Red, especially bright red like Luke was generally means agitation, or anger. Tim thought maybe he had been picking up on what I was feeling.”

“Were you angry?”

“Not at that particular moment, but I had been pretty angry most of the week, yeah. It’s possible he tasted higher adrenaline or cortisol in my system and was reacting to it.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

“Yeah, me too, but I’m not feeling that way now.” 

“And now? How are you feeling?” He looked at my face, similar to how he’d looked at me in the confessional. 

“I guess I’m content. If I were an octopus, I’d be pale, ivory or beige. Mellow. Maybe I’d have a few flecks of excitement or arousal, but in your arms, it’s hard to feel anything but calm.” 

Gabe looked around my little deck and up at the back of my house. “The other tenants, are they around much?”

“No. The second floor is currently empty and the third floor tenant has gone away for the summer. She didn’t find a sublet so she’s just paying rent until she gets back. It’s been quiet here. Why? You looking for an apartment?”

“Hah! No, I was just curious.” 

“Well, I’m not particularly close with any of my other neighbors either. They seem nice enough, but I never really bothered to get to know them. So no one will see you coming and going if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“Good to know,” he agreed. “How come you don’t know your neighbors?” 

“Trust issues, remember?” I sniffed out a quiet laugh. He seemed to contemplate this as he leaned back to look at the stars. 

“Can you trust I love you?” His voice was quiet and directed at the sky. 

“Probably not,” I whispered into his shoulder. 

“Why? Can’t you feel it? It feels so real to me, I can’t imagine you wouldn’t feel it. Or maybe you just don’t want it?”

“Gabe, I told you I want you and I feel you. Your presence in my life is one of the most real things I’ve ever felt, but love?”

“Again, you don’t have to say it or feel it back, truly. I just want you to believe me.”

“Well, I can’t, okay?”

“Why? Is it because I lied to Linda, because I swear to you, I swear to God, Lucy I did not mean for that to cast a pall on your belief in me.”

“Shit, Gabe, no. I don’t believe you could love me because I don’t believe I’m lovable.”

“What?”

“I mean it’s the logical explanation for why you wouldn’t want to fuck me. I’m damaged goods, you said it yourself. Who could love me? I’m nothing but trouble. I’m like a pretty porcelain pitcher with a big hole in the bottom. Decorative, but useless.”

“Lucy, my God, no. No no no. That is not what I meant last week. Please. You can’t believe that!” Gabe pushed my legs off him and slid from his seat to kneel at my feet. “Look at me. You are infinitely lovable and so easy to love. Loving you is reckless it’s so easy.”

“Then why do you look like you’re in jail when you say it? Why do you look like part of you always wants to race away from me when we are together?”

He lowered his head on my lap and I was helpless not to stroke his thick, dark hair. I loved the fragile feeling of the back of his neck and I rubbed it gently. “I’m scared. I’m human. I live a life that never allowed even a slim margin to contemplate this kind of connection, and I’ve risked everything for just a taste of it, with you. Even worse, I’ve dragged you into a place where you have no business mucking around. You should be out with kids your own age, being free and not worrying about any of this drama.”

“Well, I’m apparently a moth to the flame for drama. Maybe that’s just what attracts you to me?”

He shook his head. “That’s not it,” he insisted. “You are lovable.” He stood up and pulled me into his arms. My body rested against his and he swayed gently with me in the night. 

“So you love me? But you don’t want to fuck me?” I mumbled against his shirt. I needed an answer. I had to know. My entire body rose and fell on the waves of his breath. 

“No, I do not want to fuck you,” he said. “I want to love you. I want to make love with you. I’m hopeless and you were partially right that my fucking religion has to do with it in a way, but I don’t want it to just be lust when I enter you. I want it to be a union of love and I know I can’t make you love me, Daisy. It’s new for me, desiring another being as I do you. I’m trying to understand and trying to meet you halfway, but as much as I want to bury my entire being inside of you, I cannot do it without love on both sides.”

“So, what? You think I’m just a porn star or something?”

“How did you jump to that conclusion? No!”

Exasperated, I threw up my hands. “Did you not feel what I did to you in the confessional?”

“I did. Of course I did, it was unreal.”

“How could you think I’d do that without feeling something? Didn’t you feel me giving it all up to you? You keep asking if I can feel you loving me, well can’t you feel things too?”

A sudden epiphany passed over his face. He looked at me with a tender satisfaction, as if he’d just slid the final piece of an enormous jigsaw puzzle into its spot. “It’s too difficult for you to say.” His compassionate observation, made me breathe a sigh of relief. 

“You said I didn’t have to say it,” my voice was a tiny shimmer of bioluminescence in a dark, gigantic sea. 

“You don’t,” he nodded. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“Thank you.” I put both of my hands on his chest and smiled for the first time in an entire week. The joy of being understood was more palpable than my own heartbeat. “Could you do me a favor though?”

“Anything for you.”

“Can you say it again?”

“Yeah, I’ll say it as much as you like,” he laughed and nuzzled his nose against mine. “You are lovable,” he looked into my eyes in the flickering candlelight on my deck. “And I love you. I love you, Lucy. I love you.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the tags, Loves, as I am adding some things to them as I go that could potentially be triggers for people. This chapter contains some period sex, which I fully understand is not everyone's thing so if you wanna skip over it, feel free. But I promise it is actually relevant to the story and not just gross or gratuitous. xox. 
> 
> And many, many thanks for all the folks reading and commenting and leaving kudos. Wow, you completely make my heart soar.

He hadn’t eaten since lunch, so I made him dinner. He sat on a stool at my kitchen counter as I boiled water for pasta and made a salad.

“You’re going to too much trouble,” he said when I dredged chicken in flour and crumbs and laid it in a sizzling pan. I smiled. Knowing he watched my every move thrilled me, but in a quiet way. It felt similar to being held and observed by Luke. Involuntarily, I glanced at my wrist, but the pattern of his suckers had vanished hours before. It seemed impossible that had been just earlier in the same day.

“I haven’t had anyone to cook for in forever. This is nice.” I handed him a bottle of Pino Grigio to open while I flipped the chicken. His eyebrows rose when he examined the label prior to twisting in the corkscrew.

“How does someone so young get such erudite taste in wine?” He asked as he poured two glasses.

“It’s just a Pinot Grigio,” I said. “Hardly what I’d determine erudite.”

“ _Hardly what you’d determine_?” He laughed softly and handed me a glass. I took a sip and set my glass on the counter so I could drain the pasta. “You’re such an interesting series of contradictions,” he observed.

“What do you mean?”

“In some ways you seem so much older than your years. The way you keep house for example, or your taste in wine. At times, your intelligence has a depth and your emotions a tenacity I rarely see in people my own age. Your sensuality seems limitless. And then other times. . .”

“What?”

“Well, other times, you are just this delicate, little flower. My Daisy. Scared, lost, and searching. Utterly precious in your vulnerability.”

I stopped tossing the pasta with the oil and garlic sauce I’d made. “Yikes. You make me sound almost bipolar.”

“Nono,” he shook his head. He put his hands on my waist. He could practically encircle my entire waist with his hands, as if he were holding the stem of a flower. “Not like that at all. Your complexity makes you amazing to me. I want all of it, every little flicker of your fire.”

“No one has ever spoken to me like this,” I said slowly. I turned to remove the chicken from the heat, but he kept his arms around me and embraced me, nestled into my neck. I twisted my head to look back at him.

“And no one has ever looked at me like this,” he whispered.

“How do I look at you?”

“Like I’m a man, a real man, a normal man who loves and sins and has worldly desires.”

“Sylvia didn’t look at you like that?”

“No. She never did,” he said. He kissed my forehead and didn’t offer any more information on the subject, so I set to making his plate. He asked if I was going to join him, and I sheepishly explained I’d taken myself out to dinner prior to going to church. “For someone who cooks so well, you sure eat out a lot,” he observed.

“I hate cooking for myself,” I said. “It’s the loneliest thing in the world. I’d rather not eat anything at all.”

“Well, this is delicious,” he smiled. After he finished, he helped me with the dishes.

“You can take the leftovers for your lunch tomorrow, if you want,” I suggested.

“Actually, I have a day off tomorrow. Can I stay with you tonight?” He asked and gave his glasses a little push up on his nose.

“Of course you can. I’d like that, but. . .”

“But what?”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me trying to take advantage of you, because it’s that time of the month,” I shrugged. After everything we’d just discussed I figured he expected we were going to seal the deal. He just smiled and walked into my bedroom, kicked off his shoes and started making himself comfortable. He took off everything except his boxers. I changed into a night shirt and we climbed under the covers.

“Do you feel okay?” He asked and placed a hand on my stomach.

“I’m fine,” I smiled. “I’m a little crampy but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” I cuddled on his chest and stroked between his pectoral muscles. “If you’re already through your recovery phase, I can still pleasure you,” I purred. We kissed for a while and it was just soft and nice.

“Can I see?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” I asked. He rubbed a hand over my crotch. “Ew, Gabe! No, gross!”

“It’s not gross! It’s part of you and it’s something I’ve never witnessed before. I’m sorry if it was wrong of me to ask. I told you, I love and want all of you.”

“Gabe,” I chastised. “That is not a thing. No one feels that way!” For a while we cuddled quietly, but then I asked, “Are you serious? You really want to see me, down there, now?”

He moaned and the sound of it alone could have made me come. “I do,” he said. I exhaled sharply and got out of bed. In the bathroom, I removed my underpants and tampon and cleaned up a bit. Grabbing a towel, I padded back to the bedroom. I peeled back the covers and spread the towel on the bed. Lying on the towel with my legs tight together, I looked up at Gabe with an uncertain smile.

“Really?” He whispered. I nodded. He pushed up my night shirt and kissed my breasts, then moved down over my tummy. Kneeling beside me, he lightly massaged the join between my legs until I opened slightly for him, and then he rubbed the insides of my thighs and I opened even more. He climbed between my legs and pushed them apart. “Oh,” he gasped as he slid a finger up through my slit and I spread for him. “Oh, Baby. You’re so beautiful.”

I turned my face into my pillow, blushing furiously. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked.

“No,” I said.

“Are you okay?”

“Yep,” I said and smiled at him to show him I really was okay. The truth was, his touch felt amazing and he wasn’t even trying to arouse me. He dragged his finger up and down and then circled my hole where I imagined a viscous mixture of blood and arousal had pooled.

He tore his eyes away to find my eyes and asked, “It’s okay? It doesn’t hurt if I touch you?”

“No,” I sighed, “it actually feels really nice. The increased blood flow down there means more sensation. Feels. . . good. . .almost too good.” I whimpered as he circled my clit. I closed my eyes and gave in to the thick waves of pleasure. He stoked smoldering heat between my legs without even meaning to, and before I even knew what was happening, he gave me a sweet, quiet, effortless orgasm. When I opened my eyes, I saw he watched me. He’d slipped out of his boxers and was stroking his dick, looking at me as I caught my breath and descended from my climax. I tried to roll over and reach for him, but he pushed me back and said he wanted to look at me, between my legs.

“It’s like the Garden of Eden,” he said, gazing at me, lightly fondling my folds. “The blood of Eve, so sacred and fertile.” He slipped a finger in me and I tightened my inner walls around him. In another moment, he collapsed back and came with a soft gasp, his semen spurting in a little pool on his stomach. “Wasn’t sure I could even do that again, after what you did to me earlier,” he panted as he grabbed the tissues I handed him and cleaned up.

“I told you, you’re insatiable,” I curled into his body as he settled back on the pillows. His heart raced beneath my ear.

“I can’t stop wanting you,” he sounded almost somber. “I’ve never felt so helpless, so powerless. I’m like Samson after his hair is shorn when I’m in your arms.” I tugged the curls at the nape of his neck.

“You think you’re helpless? I can’t believe I just let you do that to me.”

He sat up and genuine concern wrinkled his features. “Are you sorry? I thought it felt good. I never would have done it otherwise.”

“It felt good,” I sighed. “It’s not that.”

“Then what? Did I do something wrong? Tell me.”

“Gabe. You didn’t do anything wrong. Your touch felt kind and sweet. I just couldn’t help remember. . . oh shit. Never mind.”

“No. Not never mind. Tell me, Lucy.”

I buried my face in his skin and inhaled him deeply. They say scent is the most primal sense and so I tried with all my might to memorize the earthy musk of his being. I licked his nipple like some weird animal searching for sustenance. “I’m scared if I tell you, you’ll stop loving me,” I said at last.

“What? Why?”

“Because the last person who fucked me when I bled almost killed me,” my whisper was nearly lost against his jaw. Gabe jerked away from me, sat up, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His back was a long, beautiful shadow to me in the darkness of my room. I reached and touched his hip. “You see? I told you I couldn’t be loved.” I said. When he turned, his face was a mask of rage. He leapt to his feet.

“Lucy, I will never stop loving you! I told you that and it is true. It’s the most true thing I have ever said. But what have I done? Did I hurt you? Did I do something to make you remember. . . dammit! This is all new to me. I don’t know anything! I never want to hurt you. Did I desire something wrong? Should I go?”

“Hey, come here,” I said. “You did nothing wrong. You made me feel really good and I liked watching you, Gabe.” I grabbed his wrist and pulled him back to the bed. “It’s just ghosts from my past. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”

“You didn’t ruin anything, Baby.” He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my face and neck and shoulders. “I just want to keep all the ghosts away when I’m with you.”

“There are things I’ve never told anyone,” my voice was small. “I almost told you, that first night, in the confessional. And then I fucked it up being an ass.”

“You didn’t fuck anything up. Tell me now. You can tell me anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I can handle it. Let me share your burden.” He sounded more certain than anything else I’d ever heard in my life, and his shoulder beneath my head was so solid and real. I took a deep breath and then I leapt.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hard chapter to write, and it is by no means perfect. It contains some very dark themes of violence toward women, abortion, and trauma as well as symptoms of Posttraumatic Stress Disorder. If any of this is too difficult for you, please take care of yourself and know it is okay to skip it. xoxo

It was several long minutes before I spoke. I hardly knew where to begin.

Gabe waited patiently, holding me, stroking my hair.

“His name was Rick,” I started. I was quiet again and almost got lost in the whirr of the fan.

It would have been easy to get twisted up in the fan blades like a length of ribbon, and to just hang there, silent and limp. My mind felt the familiar tug and the comforting fog I used to fade away into certain noises, colors or textures, when I wanted to avoid something unpleasant. But I bit the inside of my cheek. The sharp sting and tang of my blood brought me back into the moment.

“I was super young and alone in the world. I’d gone off to school in New York City. Remember I told you I studied poetry? I'd actually gotten into college on a creative writing scholarship, and was way out of my league after growing up in a sleepy, seaside town. Everything was exciting and terrifying all at once and I didn’t want to look out of place, so I threw myself headfirst into every single experience I could find. I studied hard and partied even harder. It was college so being wild and a bit eccentric was the norm. I guess you wouldn’t understand that.”

“Hmm, well, seminary isn’t exactly known for rambunctious parties,” Gabe chuckled lightly. “But it’s okay. I don’t have to understand.”

“Hooo boy. Oooohhhkayy. So, Rick? I met him almost as soon as I started school. It was at a party. He was a few years older than me and he was military. Marines. He’d come back from Afghanistan pretty fucked up. He had some shit happen to him, and he didn’t really tell me everything, but it was gnarly. Or, I should say, he told me the things he wanted to tell me when he wanted me to be freaked out by him, or when he wanted me to feel bad for him. To this day, I'm still not totally sure what was true or not. It was the first way he messed with my head. He was special ops or some crazy shit and he returned thinking everyone was the enemy. I can’t even tell you why I fell for him. He wasn’t great looking. He had these big, stupid ears. He looked like Dumbo with his high and tight and his ears sticking out. Maybe I had just been alone too long? I don’t know. I was stupid. . . and he drew me in.”

“You weren’t stupid, Lucy. You were vulnerable.”

“Yeah, you’re being generous. I was a fucking moron, and you couldn’t tell me anything back then. The few friends I’d made at school didn’t like him, and he tried to tell me they were bad people, so I basically cut them out of my life. After a short time, I had no one but him.”

“He isolated you.”

“Well, whatever it was, he sucked me in and had me under his spell before I even knew what was happening. He took me out to these cool, fancy places. Part of me knew he couldn’t afford them, but it seduced me. He’d get angry if I ordered food, and he’d be pissed if I didn’t order food. If I didn’t eat my whole meal, he’d be mad I made him spend money, and if I ate, he’d tell me I was fat and disgusting. I literally couldn’t win.”

“They call that gaslighting, Lucy,” Gabe said softly. "He was actually trying to make you think you were crazy."

“He was a master at it. He’d take me to high end clubs, insist I get dressed up and dance, but then he’d berate me all the way home for being slutty and trying to get every guy’s attention. I swear I wasn’t! I was just trying to please him. I’d try to placate him with sex, try to show him he was the only one. It worked for a little bit, but got more intense. He demanded a key to my apartment. I thought it was because he loved me, but he’d show up at all random hours of the night and do fucking ugly shit to me.” I paused to catch my breath and turned my face into Gabe’s chest.

“What did he do?” Gabe asked. It was an innocent question, but I felt the tightness in his jaw as he asked, like part of him didn’t want to know. I didn’t blame him. I told him how Rick would break into my apartment when I was sleeping and pretend to be a burglar, then would laugh hysterically at how frightened I was. Or he’d get into my bed and start fucking me and I’d wake up thinking I was being raped by a stranger. “He was insane,” Gabe murmured and tightened his arms around me.

“That wasn’t all,” I muttered. I pulled down the sheet and turned on my bedside light. Kneeling next to Gabe, I showed him the scar on my ribs, beneath my left breast, that he’d never noticed before in the dark.

“Holy shit,” Gabe hissed. “He did that? To you?” Squinting, as his eyes adjusted to the light, he examined the silvery line that traversed three and a half inches of my flesh.

“Yeah. I mean, it was superficial. I didn’t get stitches that time so it scarred bad. It looks worse than it was.”

“You didn’t get stitches _that time?_ Were there other times?”

“Look, I swear I tried to leave him after this,” I pointed at the faint scar. “I managed to change my locks and I even stayed at a friend’s house for a few weeks. But he eventually found me. He was so pathetically sad and sorry, said he couldn’t live without me. You’ve heard it all before, he swore he had changed. He told me he’d go to therapy at the VA, and like an idiot, I believed him.” I paused to take a breath and to gage Gabe’s reaction to my story so far.

He rolled onto his side toward me, and propped himself up on his elbow. His face, as usual, was difficult to read, but he extended his hand to stroke the inside of my arm. I switched the light back off and flopped down on my back in the bed. Staring at the ceiling, fingers laced together on my stomach, I continued as if I were plodding through harsh terrain of a swamp.

“It was okay for a while and that’s when I got pregnant. I thought maybe the baby would make him quiet down. I though we could work things out. The idea of being a parent hadn’t really occurred to me before, but I thought it might help our situation. God, I sound so fucking stupid. I think part of me never tells anyone this story because I actually hate the sound of how amazingly blind, deaf, and dumb I was.”

“You were none of those things,” Gabe interrupted. “You were young, still a child, barely out of high school!”

“Well, I was a stupid child anyway because I really believed we were going to make it work. I thought he’d be supportive and help me while I finished college. Needless to say, I was wrong.” My throat tightened. I’d never gotten this far in the story before. I don’t think I’d even allowed myself to remember it in such detail as I was now recalling it to Gabe.

“He was so angry I’d allowed it to happen,” I whispered.

“You _allowed_ it?”

“That’s what he said.” My stomach tightened and I started shaking. 

“You can’t believe that. Oh, Lucy. How could anyone say that to you?” Gabe shuddered next to me. Part of me wanted to stop talking, roll over and go to sleep for a really long time, but I continued.

“Well, apparently, it was all my fault. I’d been on the pill cuz he refused to wear condoms, but maybe I missed a dose or something? Anyway, I tried to keep it secret for as long as possible, you know, so I could figure things out? Then I tried to leave. By this time, he knew all my hiding places. He found me in the university library and dragged me back to the apartment. I was trying to study. He was shit faced and I went with him just to not make a scene. At that point, I was just so embarrassed I’d let it get to this point. I didn’t know how to make it stop other than to just go back. He told me I’d ruined his life. He came at me with a knife, and when I tried to protect myself, he cut me, here,” I held up my arm and showed Gabe the scar I typically kept covered with my shirt or my watch band. It had been small but deep. It had bled profusely and it needed a bunch of stitches. “They kept me overnight in the hospital because they thought I tried to kill myself,” I explained. “Fucking nightmare. No one believed me. I had the abortion the next week. I was seventeen weeks and they didn’t want to do it. They did an ultrasound and told me they thought it was a girl. They told me I’d regret it. But I knew he was going to kill me and I knew he’d kill her too if I didn’t do something.”

“I’m so sorry,” Gabe murmured. He brought my wrist to his lips and kissed my scar.

“A few more weeks and she would have almost been viable. Some babies are born 22 weeks and make it, or so I’ve heard.”

“It would have been highly unlikely, Lucy.”

“I dunno, it seemed like the only merciful thing I could do.” Tears streamed down my face. I swatted at them with my hand. “They knocked me out and when I woke up I was empty.”

“You made the best decision you could. Be at peace with that, Lucia.” His voice was the softest thing I ever felt.

“I try,” I sobbed and Gabe pulled me into his chest.

“How did you get out?”

I sucked in a quivering breath. “That’s a story all on its own,” I muttered. “After I got out of the hospital, before I ended the pregnancy, he had me practically hostage at his apartment. It was only a week, but it felt like years. He wouldn’t let me go to my classes. He threatened if I got out he’d have me committed. The idea of the psych ward terrified me. I didn't belong there. I was exhausted from fear and the pregnancy had really knocked me out, so I believed him. I was really sick. Because I hadn’t been able to eat for weeks, I had almost no energy or strength. He had this fish tank. I’d sit and get lost watching the fish swim around.

“After the procedure, I was super weak. Later, I found out there was a bit of something caught in my cervix and that caused a complication, but at the time, I thought it was because he tried to screw me so soon after. I could rationalize not being pregnant anymore as just a bit of science, but the bleeding. . . oh, that was scary. I never understood what a hemorrhage was or what people meant when they described clots as pieces of fruit, but I had balls of blood the size of grapefruits come out of me. Sorry if that’s too much information.”

“No. I’m here. It’s okay.”

“Anyway, I found out later, my blood count had dropped and that’s why I was so weak. But back to the fish tank. He didn’t take good care of it and it got clouded with algae. All I could think about were the fish suffocating in his fucking filthy tank. It kept me from sleeping. One night I got up and started cleaning it. I thought he was already passed out, but he came out of his room drunk as a skunk and screamed at me. I froze. I can’t even really explain what happened to me, Gabe. I was like a deer in headlights. I just completely stopped functioning. I couldn’t even tell you what he was saying. It was like I was up on the wall, looking down on myself in a TV show and the mute button was on. I literally went deaf for a bit. All of a sudden, he had a handle of vodka. It was full. He hurled it. I managed to duck, but it shattered the fish tank and water went sloshing everywhere. Then I heard he was screaming because I’d bled on his sofa.”

As I recite the story that’s resided in my memory for nearly five years, I see a single fish wink at me from the squishy carpeted floor.

_But fish don’t have eyelids, so I know my memory is playing tricks on me._

Even still, I proceed.

“He was furious,” I laugh softly. “But he was also fucking wasted, so I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and I hid. He didn’t find me. I got out that night. Ran. I was admitted to a hospital and got a blood transfusion and medicine to stop the bleeding. Then I came home to my grandma. Dropped out of school and reenrolled locally.”

“What about your parents? Where were they?”

“My parents have never been particularly helpful. It was always my grandma who supported me. She took me back without a single question.”

“Where is he now,” Gabe’s question was like a snapping stick, broken and pointed.

“I have no clue. He might have signed on for another tour or he might have drunk himself to death. I have no clue.” I twisted my face to look at him. “Do you hate me?”

“How could anyone hate you?”

“I should have left him a hundred times before I did. It makes me feel stupid, or weak, that I went back to him over and over thinking he would change, that it would be like it was in the beginning when it was good and fun.”

“He was the one to blame, not you. You did nothing wrong. You were trying to survive. I’ve worked with women in that position before and a lot of times when they leave it gets worse. On some level you probably knew it wasn’t safe to leave. You were being wise and very brave.” He rubbed my back. “Oh my love you were very brave.”

My entire brain and body wanted to get lost in the circles of his hand on my skin, but I asked, “You’ve worked with women like me?”

“I have. For a while I did outreach with shelters who helped women who had been victims of abuse.”

“So you’ve heard this all before?”

“Yes, and no. Every story is different and complicated in its own way. And I never heard the story come out of the lips of a woman for whom I care the way I care for you. My God, what you’ve been through. Lucy, I swear to you, I will never harm you like that.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. I feel so safe with you. It was one of the first things I felt when I was with you. I can’t imagine you hurting me.” My fingers wandered in his chest hair and played with his nipples. “You’re not like anyone else, Gabe. No one has ever cared for me like you do.”

“Lucia,” he whispered and sought my lips for a kiss of comfort and reassurance, flavored with the salt of my tears.

“Do you think you would have fallen for me if I had met you in one of those abuse shelters?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“Just curious.”

“I really don’t know, but I don’t think so. It would have seemed even more unethical to start something with a woman who had been so recently traumatized, or who was in my pastoral care.” For a moment he considered the situation. “Although, if it were _you_. . . I don’t know.”

“I never told anyone, Gabe,” I was still crying.

“I know. Thank you for telling me.”

“Please don’t ever tell. Please don’t ever tell a soul, okay?”

“Shhhh, of course not. Never,” his fingers worked in circular motions on my shoulder and I thought of the swirling arms of octopuses, dancing deep on the sea floor.

“Tell me,” I gasped, seeking his lips with mine. “Tell me again, please.”

“I love you,” he whispered. “You are safe and I love you. _I love you_. I love you.”

I don’t know how many times he whispered it before I finally stopped crying, but I know he held me and all my secrets until I fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are still with me, please check in and let me know how you are doing. xoxo


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for those of you who took the time and care to read the last chapter, and took the time to comment so thoughtfully. I adore you. I know it was a challenging read, so I wanted to get this chapter up with some haste, in order to cleanse your psychic palate. . . 
> 
> Apologies in advance for any tooth decay you incur as a result of the fluff in this chapter. I do not typically "do" fluff, but in a longer work, you need some balance, plus you earned it, so here we go.

Slowly, I floated to the surface of consciousness from a dark and dreamless sleep. Memory and desire brought a smile to my lips before I even opened my eyes. Gabe had held me most of the night, but he wasn’t holding me now, so I rolled in search of his body in bed.

The bed was empty. I sat up so quickly it made me dizzy.

_He was gone._

As my vision adjusted, I listened to hear if he was in the kitchen or the bathroom, but I could tell before I staggered down the hallway that my apartment was completely empty. “What the actual fucking fuck?” I gasped. By the time I reached the kitchen, my vision was blurring. I clutched the counter to steady myself. My mouth felt filled with sand and my breath accelerated. I was certain I’d hyperventilate or pass out before I was even able to get a cup of water.

_He’d left. I’d told him everything and he’d fucking left me without even saying goodbye!_

My door opened, just as tears started streaming down my face. Gabe materialized with a tray of coffee in one hand, my keys in the other, and a paper bag between his teeth. “Oh!” I exhaled, and my tears of anger turned to tears of relief. In the bright light of day, his large frame filled the entire doorway, backlit and glowing.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He set the stuff on my counter and appeared before me.

“I thought. . . I thought,” I sobbed. My legs felt like rubber. Thankfully, he caught me in an embrace and held me so tight, he lifted me a few inches off the floor. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed my wet cheeks, nuzzled my drippy nose. With a hand behind my knees, he scooped me up into his arms and cradled my body against his chest.

“Shhh,” he rocked me gently. “I just went to get coffee and croissants. That’s all. I was hoping to make it back before you woke up so I could bring you breakfast in bed, but I left a note just in case.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, see?” He pointed to a small square of paper on the counter next to the spot where he’d deposited the coffees. He’d drawn a sloppy heart and inside it wrote _BRB._ “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Okay,” I sniffled and looped my arms around his neck.

“Milk only, right?” He asked with a little nod at the coffee. I smiled. “Come on. Can I put you back in bed and feed you some nice pastry and some really decent coffee?”

“Or you could just stand here and hold me like this eternally,” I suggested and gave the middle of his upper lip a quick lick.

“Mmmmhh, as nice as it is to have my arms full of Lucy, I’d have to put you down eventually so I could touch other parts of you, so I could feel you in other ways against me,” his whisper was coarse and muffled in my ear, his beard scratchy on my cheek.

“Oh really?”

“Really,” he swung me around so my legs straddled his hips. I clamped my thighs around his waist to hold on, but I didn’t really need to because his hands held my ass up against him. “See? This feels good too,” he kissed my neck and I clung to him. He walked to my room and placed me on my bed. I looked up at him with a little pout, but he held up a finger as if to say, _be right back_ , and he left. I heard some clattering in my kitchen and he returned with a plate piled high with croissants, danishes, and strawberries, as well as the coffees he’d transferred into mugs. Knowing he’d found his way around my kitchen made me grin. “You like chocolate?” He placed the plate on the end of the bed and put the coffees on a bedside table.

“Sure,” I agreed, getting comfortable again in my bed as he kicked off his shoes and slid out of his pants. He climbed onto the bed next to me and dipped his index finger into the gooey center of one of the pastries.

“Try this,” he said and slipped his finger between my lips. I sucked the dark and decadent chocolate off his finger easily enough, but kept it in my mouth and ran my tongue over the pad, nibbled his knuckle. “Now that’s just not fair,” he sighed. To up the ante, I removed my nightshirt, poked my finger into the chocolate and rubbed it around my nipple, all the while smirking at him. He rolled his eyes lustfully and took my nipple between his lips, sucked on me until he made me squirm. When he tore himself away, he mumbled, “How did I live?”

“What?”

“Without your breasts? My God, Daisy. How did I ever live without the sweetness of your skin on my mouth?” He fondled back and forth between them for a bit, licked around the areola of one and tweaked the nipple of the other between his fingertips. Then he leaned back just far enough to admire them visually. He traced the outline of the side closest to him, from my armpit down beneath its fleshy fold against my ribs and then up through the valley over my heart. His fingers wandered over the varying shades of pink and red, making my skin pucker with papillae of arousal as he did. At last, with a faint groan, he put his mouth on me again, kissed one side, the other, then rested his face in the center of my chest.

“I don’t know how you lived without tits, Father. You seem to have a bit of a fetish, not that I’m complaining.”

He stopped what he was doing and sat up with another one of his unreadable expressions on his face. “Hey, can we agree that when we are together you don’t call me . . . that?”

“Oh, okay. Yeah.” I felt my face flush hot with anxiety and embarrassment. “Are you mad?”

“No. No, not mad at all,” he sighed. “It’s just confusing enough without bringing _that_ into bed with us,” he shrugged.

“I’m sorry,” I rolled over and pressed my face against his arm. He was still wearing his button-down shirt. He smelled like a combination of the cafe, laundry soap, and his own rich fragrance. I rubbed my face on him, trying to rouse the vanilla of his skin, trying to get him in my system so if he left now, I’d still be able to know his smell.

“It’s okay. Relationships have boundaries to make them healthy, right? This is one that I just need to have in order to be with you, while we figure this out. Hey,” he gently pushed my head off of his arm so he could look at his face. He looked calm and kind. He stroked my jaw. I smiled and nodded.

He sat and reached for coffee which he’d put on one of my bedside tables. He handed me one and sipped his. I ate a strawberry and fed him a bite of buttery, flakey croissant. “You feel okay today? After last night?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just checking. That was pretty intense. Just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m alright,” I said slowly. “Are you okay? I mean, did you decide you feel differently? About me?”

Gabe pinched my chin, looked intently at me, and answered without hesitation, “Nope.” I breathed out and released the frantic butterflies that had fluttered tumultuously in my chest.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Fuck. What?”

“Has anyone ever told you how jaded you are,” he scoffed and kissed my shoulder.

“I actually think I have heard that once or twice,” I fired back.

“You immediately assume the worst even in benign situations. Relax.”

“Okay. Fine. What were you thinking, Gabriel?”

“Let’s go away,” he suggested around a bite of danish.

“What?”

“I have a few days vacation coming before the fall hustle and bustle. Let’s get out of here. Let’s go someplace. Just be together for a bit.”

I agreed instantly and excitedly. He initially suggested going to Toronto and taking a day trip to Niagra Falls, but I remembered my passport was not up to date. Settling back in bed, we brainstormed different options. I pulled out my phone and did a search for different destinations within a day’s drive. We compromised on taking a trip to the mountains in New Hampshire, where we figured we could hide out in a nice hotel, do some hiking, and enjoy each other without worrying about the watchful eyes of our small town. He’d never been and it had been many years since my last trip north.

“Oooh, look at this, we can get a room with a hot tub in it,” I suggested.

“Sounds good, let’s book it today,” he said and I squeaked in delight. I expressed feeling like I could hardly wait to start packing and a strange look passed over Gabe’s face.

“What is it?” I asked. “Are you already reconsidering?”

“Nothing like that,” he said softly. “I have a strange confession. So, typically, I wear this uniform for work. I had a few secular outfits, and I ordered a couple other things when we, uh, started hanging out. But I don’t want to go on vacation wearing my uniform, and I could use some help picking out some shirts and pants. You know, normal looking attire.”

“Awww,” I said. “What’s your favorite color?”

“I suppose I like blue,” he replied.

“Well, I imagine we can’t really go shopping together, just in case. But if you give me your sizes, I’d be happy to pick some stuff out for you.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all. It would be my pleasure,” I grinned and climbed on top of him. “You know what else would be my pleasure?” I asked coyly.

“I can make an educated guess,” he said somewhat glibly, but he smiled as I kissed him.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, friends. It's the chapter we've all been waiting for. I wanted it to be perfect and I hope it lives up to your dreams and expectations. Please feel free to drop me a comment and let me know what you think I am loving hearing from you all so so so much!!! You have no idea how much your kind words make my entire week!

A stunning, four poster, king size bed dominated our suite. Ivory wainscoting accented sage green walls and rich, velvet drapes in a regal gold framed the windows. A two-person jacuzzi nested in a corner of the ample room, and French doors opened to a small balcony which overlooked Mount Washington. Cherry wood furnishings, carved in a colonial style, gleamed flawlessly. On the mini bar, a bottle of champagne reclined in a bucket of ice beside two crystal flutes.

“Did you book the honeymoon suite?” I wondered, turning around and admiring everything with wide eyes like Dorothy when she first landed in Munchkin Land.

“What do you think? You like it?”

“Like it? Uh, I don’t think I’m ever going to want to leave!”

“Well, we don’t have to leave for a few nights anyway,” he said.

“Gabe, this is too much. I thought priests took a vow of poverty or something.”

“ _Or something_ ,” he winked. “I don’t want you to worry about anything.”

I threw my arms around him and said, “I feel like a princess!”

Gabe laughed and kissed the spot on my neck behind my ear. “I love seeing you happy,” he said. His eyes sparkled like Baltic amber, more green and gray than brown at that particular moment, possibly due to the beam of sun that broke across our room and illuminated everything within. An unspoken dialogue seemed to pass between us after his declaration, as we hovered on our shared gaze, saying we’d do anything in the world to always be exactly this happy, but knowing it was highly improbable. It wasn’t a conversation in which I wanted to participate, either aloud or silently. I wanted nothing more than the cool mossy patches of green in his eyes, the weight of his hands on my ribs, and the little scratch behind my ear where I could still feel his kiss.

“I want to make you happy too,” I sighed.

“You don’t have to work very hard to do that,” he murmured. “Just being with you like this feels like a dream.”

“Well your dream could very soon be a nightmare. You’re going to see me less happy and more hangry if you don’t feed me, Mister Gideon.” Breaking away from his embrace, I flopped my suitcase on a stand and unzipped it. “The restaurant looked pretty fancy,” I mumbled as I sifted through my clothes. “I think I should probably change for dinner.” It had been a long drive through traffic. Many travelers were getting their last little vacations in before the end of the summer. But it had been so nice in the car with Gabe, I didn’t really care if we ever reached our destination. We shared music playlists, and peanut M & Ms. I introduced him to Lana DelRey and Regina Spektor and he insisted on a series of intensely brooding classical pieces. During a particularly long Beethoven concerto, he attempted to give me a music theory lesson, which I interrupted by stroking his thighs and leaning over in the car to kiss his earlobe. He called me _Little Devi_ l and told me I was going to get us on the news for causing a major pileup on the freeway, distracting him like that.

Every moment was a rare gift, a succulent little drop of moisture I swallowed to keep down the rising sense of despair. It was a weird habit of mine that drove June nutty, my being perpetually anxious about the end of a vacation before it even really got started.

After a hasty shower, I fixed my hair in a single braid that draped over my shoulder and pulled soft tendrils out to frame my face. I applied a bit more makeup than I had the first night we’d gone out together, gave myself smokey eyes and crimson lips. When I was satisfied with my appearance, I slipped into a short, red dress and dabbed perfume behind my ears on my wrists. The final accessory was a pair of strappy heels that would bring me almost to his level in height.

I emerged from the bathroom to find Gabe dressed in casual gray pants and a short sleeved, indigo blue button down. “Ooooh,” I touched the lovely material of his shirt, which was one of the things I had picked for him. It was beautifully woven and flecked with silver thread. “This looks nice.” He smelled like he put on cologne, something spicy and complex that danced mysteriously in my sinuses.

“I’ll have to put you in touch with my personal shopper,” he said. “But at the moment, I can’t remember her name because I’m so distracted by this stunning creation.” I did a little twirl for him and he shook his head with a smile I could only describe as wanton. His eyes glazed wide and heavy with want. If my stomach hadn’t been rumbling with hunger, I probably would have given in to the other swollen rumblings lower in my body, and pounced on him right then. Happily, Gabe distracted us both from our lust, saying, “We have a reservation.”

Walking down the corridor of the hotel, we held hands, and we kissed in the elevator until I felt him grow aroused against me, but we made our way to the upscale restaurant off the main lobby and were seated without ravishing one another. It felt spectacularly fun and normal and for a while I was oblivious to anything but the bliss of being with him.

Gabe proved to be a man capable of acquiring amazing tables. The host brought us to a table next to a large window, overlooking a lake, framed by mountains. Gabe had just ordered a bottle of wine to go with a smoked brisket and seared scallop appetizer, when his phone buzzed in the breast pocket of the jacket he’d put on. He pulled it out, glanced at the caller id, scowled, and said, “I have to take this, Lucy. Be right back, promise.” He answered the phone as he walked away at his clipped pace, leaving me alone in the majestic dining room with its stained glass windows and vaulted ceilings.

While Gabe was taking his call, the server came back with the wine. “Shall I wait for your father to come back to serve?”

I looked up at him and choked on something between a laugh and a sneer. The brass tag on his shirt read _Lawrence_. “That is _not_ my dad,” I hissed. “Pour the fucking wine, Larry.”

“Of course, Miss, my apologies,” he said and fumbled with the corkscrew. I’d already finished my first glass and was well into my second by the time Gabe returned. During that time, I’d contemplated asking for a manager and requesting a new server, but I decided it would be more pleasant to screw with Larry over the course of what I planned to be a very long meal of many courses. Gabe kissed my cheek and leaned back in his seat. I didn’t say anything, just raised my eyebrows, doing my best to channel my inner June.

“That was Linda,” he said as he sat back down. “I gave her stern orders not to call me again for the next four days. And now my phone is officially off. I am so sorry.” He picked up my hand and kissed each finger.

“And where does my buddy Linda think you are?”

He sighed heavily as if to ask me if I really wanted to go there. I stared at him, and twirled the end of my braid, undeterred. “Told her I was on a fishing trip with a friend up north.”

“You’re a smooth operator, Gabriel Gideon. That is actually half true,” I raised my glass. Larry returned with our appetizers and said he’d be back in a bit to take our dinner orders.

“Are you upset?” Gabe asked. Part of me wanted to jab him right in the ribs by telling him how our waiter thought he was my father, but I plucked a chunk of steak off the platter with my fingers.

“Nope,” I said, chewing lasciviously and going back in with my pincer grip for a scallop, “I’m just famished.” After a few bites of the food, which was undeniably delicious, I did feel better. Larry returned to take our order and I sidled up next to Gabe, put my hand on his thigh, nestled my head on his shoulder and said, “Order for me, won’t you, Darling?” Gabe looked a bit confused, but did his best to order our main courses. He chose chicken piccata for me with pasta and a spinach salad. “Well done,” I said as Larry took our orders back to the kitchen.

“What was that all about?” Gabe asked.

“Just wanted to feel kept,” I murmured and sipped my wine. I swear I felt his chest puff up with masculine pride. He put his arm around me and fed me the last scallop from his fingers.

At some point, during dinner, I lost all interest in punking our waiter and became completely captivated by Gabe’s presence. He told me about taking piano lessons as a child and how he’d go out into the woods and pretend he was a conductor, with a thin branch as his baton. Later, when he picked up guitar, he started a band with a couple friends in his middle school, but it broke up when his friend Bobby started dating a girl named Gina. I told him about peeing my leotard at my kindergarten ballet recital because I was too scared to go on. In vivid detail, he described his grandmother’s talent for baking dozens of cookies at Christmas that she would deliver to the entire neighborhood. I shared about the hats my grandma knit for babies in the NICU. The sun sank behind the mountains and cast the world in gold as we unearthed these tiny treasures for each other.

After clearing away our dishes, Larry asked if we wanted to see the dessert menu. For the coup de gras, I snuggled into Gabe and declared, “I think we’d like to have dessert sent up to the room,” Larry blushed and I turned up the flame in his cheeks by gazing at Gabe and asking, “Does that work for you, Darling?”

“Absolutely,” Gabe said, oblivious to the game of cat and mouse I played with our waiter. We ordered a fruit torte, some chocolate mousse, and signed the check. The moment the elevator doors shut, Gabe had me pressed up against the wall, kissing me fiercely, his hand on my breast. “Kept, eh?” He growled and bit my neck.

“Yes. Kept forever,” I laughed tipsily.

“Something about you calling me _Darling_ has me hard as a statue,” his voice was the thunder of a summer storm. His hand was just about to find its way under the hem of my dress when the elevator dinged and opened for a family who appeared to be going up tot he rooftop pool, as they were all dressed in swimwear. Gabe and I bit back our giggles like naughty school kids, and held hands as we moved to accommodate the family in the elevator car. Mercifully, it was a short ride to our floor. We stumbled to our room, wordless with want.

Once in the room, however, a subdued energy overtook us. We grew strange and shy with one another. Gabe offered to open the champagne while we waited for our dessert and I agreed that would be nice. I opened the doors to the deck and went out to look at the starry sky. The mountain air was crisp and tinged with autumn already, such a change from my typical sea level existence. Without any nearby cities or light pollution, the sky was unabashedly bright with natural beauty. I was chilled but captivated. Gabe joined me with our champagne. He’d taken off his jacket and unbuttoned a couple buttons on his shirt. I kissed his chest, relishing the warmth of his skin and his arms as they came around me. We sipped in silence for a few moments until a knock at the door alerted us our dessert had arrived. Gabe sorted things and wheeled a cart into the room. On it there was also a vase of fresh flowers and another bottle of champagne on ice. A little card said, “Enjoy your evening, Best, Lawrence.”

“I guess you made quite the impression on our waiter,” Gabe laughed. I sniffed the flowers and rolled my eyes. “You know, suddenly, I’m not in the mood for dessert,” he said in the low voice that made the insides of my legs flutter.

“Oh?”

He shook his head, took my champagne glass, and set it on the cart. He picked up the end of my braid and pinched the elastic, gently pulled it out, and ran his fingers through my hair. He massaged the back of my neck as I unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. “Beautiful girl,” he whispered, his breath hot on my neck. “I want. . .” he started but muffled his mouth on my clavicle. His hand groped heavily beneath my dress, seeking my hidden heat. His other hand cupped my ass and pulled me into him, giving him purchase to work his fingers into the side of my panties. When he felt my slick silk, he grunted softly and said again, “I want. . .”

“What do you want? Tell me,” I asked. I knew what he wanted and I knew I was going to give it to him. I wanted it too. But I wanted to hear him say it.

“I want to make love to you,” his voice was barely more than breath and my skin felt it more than my ears actually heard it.

“Yes,” I trembled. Greedily, I slid against his finger, even as I lifted my hands over my head to cue him to remove my dress. Eagerly, we undressed one another down to our underwear. We turned down the lights and pulled the covers back on the bed. We met one another in the middle, on our knees, arms holding tight to the other body we had chosen as our sensual home.

“Lucia,” he whispered, breaking from our kiss. “I didn’t know if you would have them, so I brought condoms. They’re in my bag.”

I took his hand and brought it up my arm so he could feel my birth control implant. I explained what it was and how it worked. “You can still wear the condom if you want,” I shrugged. “But I’m healthy, I promise. And I won’t get pregnant.” I played with the curls at the back of his head and kissed him. “It’ll feel better for both of us without it, but it’s up to you.”

He seemed satisfied with this information and resumed kissing me. I laughed out loud when he fumbled with my bra and couldn’t figure out how the hooks worked. I did it for him and shimmied out of it to give him access to what thus far seemed to be his favorite part of my body. Pushing down his boxers, I stroked him lightly, and ran my hands over his ass, but I was wary of getting him too excited too quickly. I let him pace himself and he took his time touching me, kissing me, exploring me. “I’m not sure what to do,” he buried his face in my shoulder. “What do you like?”

“Make me wet with your tongue,” I suggested and he scooted down between my legs. Truthfully, I was already plenty wet, but his mouth felt so nice on my pussy. I played with his hair while he lapped me to an effortless orgasm. He came back up and hovered over me.

“You taste like gingersnaps down there,” he mumbled on my lips and kissed me. “I love you, Lucy. I love you so much.”

“Yes,” I sighed and got lost in the sensation of his mouth on my mouth. I marveled at tasting both a faint glimmer of myself and then his own tongue, was clean and mild like a fresh plum. I brought my knees up against his hips and stroked his back gently as an invitation. He lowered his hand to adjust his cock at my entrance. I nodded and smiled. “Make love to me.”

“It’s okay?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t hurt you?”

“No. Just the opposite. You’ll make me feel wonderful. You’ll see,” I coaxed and brought my hand down to meet his. I helped guide him and raised my hips to take him in. He entered me slowly, in almost excruciating increments, but I let him take his time. He held my gaze with his and I swear for the first time, maybe the only time in my life, I knew exactly what all the poets and musicians meant they wrote about two people becoming one. I touched his face. His mouth opened slightly, as if in awe. He looked worried and thrilled and his eyes glistened, huge and dark, in the dim light.

I loved him then. I knew I had always loved him, maybe even before we met. Maybe I had been born to love him, in some strange cosmic twist of a fate in which I did not even believe. But that moment, when he placed his entire being inside of me was when I felt it with utmost certainty. I knew he gave himself to me because he loved me, because I was a missing piece of him, a soul within his soul. I took his body as tenderly as I possibly could, because I knew it meant so much more, and I loved him then more than anything in the world, more than I ever knew was possible.

“Oh,” he shivered when he made the final push into me. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and held me, tight, his face pressed into my shoulder. He was still for several long moments. It was good he gave me this time to adjust to him, because he was absolutely filling and I was already a bit tighter and more sensitive from my first climax. I’d never had anything so big inside me before. I wiggled under him to accommodate, and groaned as the pressure of his body on my clit sent sparks of raw ecstasy through me. “Are you okay?” He startled up off me, pulling out part way, the friction of which accentuated the ripples of heat.

“Oh my god, yes, so good,” I muttered helplessly. I was about to start speaking in tongues. “You can move if you want, push in deeper, pull out. Feel it with me.”

He lowered back into me and whimpered as he pulled back out, pushed back in. I squeezed my walls around him and he cried out. “My light, my love,” he said and established a slow rhythm. “What else should I do?” He asked, sincerely bewildered.

“Touch my breasts, kiss me, enjoy yourself,” I rolled my hips beneath him and he took a nipple in his lips. “Ahhhh,” I whined as his tongue twirled around me. I started breathing hard, getting ready to come again. The way his cock stroked up against the underside of my clit was just too good combined with his suckling my breast. I wrapped my legs around his back and lost myself in the undulating rhythm until I was gasping, grabbing his ass so he ground his hips down on me and I came around him. It almost felt like his cock was suffocating my cunt and I had no choice but to follow that orgasm directly into the next.

“I feel you,” he said. “Oh, it’s beautiful.” He slowed to feel my inner walls shatter around him and his eyes rolled back in his head. I could barely breathe. I held his neck like a drowning woman.

“Can’t. . . come anymore,” I panted. He backed off and let me catch my breath, kissed me gently and started moving in me again. It was almost painful, I was so swollen, every nerve ablaze with the pleasure he’d given me. My body felt like a silk scarf, completely limp and waving on the will of someone else’s force, but I managed to squeeze my arms and legs around his back and thrust my hips up to take him at an even deeper angle. Apparently, my fears about him not lasting long were unfounded, as he seemed in precious little hurry to come. I let him know he could feel free to let go whenever he wanted, just in case he was unsure.

“I almost don’t want to,” he panted as he continued to move in me, slightly faster now.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want it to ever end.”

“It’s okay, we can do it again,” I laughed. “I’m all yours.”

“Mine,” he said. “Oh yes, you’re mine.” Reassured, he exerted himself on me and I pulsated around him, milking his climax from him as he breathed hard in my ear and finally began to move without abandon. It was beautiful. When he finally fell apart, he thrust into me as deep as anyone has ever been, and completely stopped moving except for his breath. I felt his balls come to rest against my ass, and his cock expand and contract in spasms that made him groan, long and almost mournful in my ear.

“Ahhh, Lucia, I love you,” he repeated as he descended. He bit my neck and shoulder wildly. I held him fast against me, until he was ready to roll off and settle by my side.

Facing in, both our heads on one pillow, we regarded one another. I traced his facial features lightly and he touched my lips with the barest of fingertips. “We are so close like this,” I whispered. “Your eyes are the entire world right now.”

“You’re mine,” he whispered back. “Am I yours?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Lucia, do you love me?”

“Yes.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Hampshire part two... more smut, and a bunch of angst- a more typical Scarlette offering, although this is a rather long chapter, so I apologize if that isn't your cup of tea, but it just came out this way. . . As always, thank you for being here and for your amazing comments!!! I am so so grateful!

A cool breeze caressed my cheek. From behind the thin veils of my eyelids, I could tell it was light out. Morning. I opened my eyes and found the French doors open. Clad in one of the thick, white hotel robes, Gabe sat at the balcony table. He had a book open in front of him. Hands clasped upon the table’s glass top, his lips moved, but I couldn’t hear what he said. Pearly pink ribbons of cloud wove within a watery sky.

Rolling over to look at the clock, I saw it was just past six. Gabe’s lips continued their silent prayer. He bowed his head, oblivious to my consciousness.

It felt wrong to watch him, but I couldn’t look away. It wasn’t like sneaking into his church to watch him say mass in front of hundreds of parishioners. This was a private act, something quietly sacred. He made the sign of the cross over his chest and leaned back in his chair. From my spot in bed, I couldn’t discern his precise facial expression, but he appeared exquisite and melancholy. I was utterly arrested by whatever silent, secret thoughts ran through him, even as he prayed to a god in whom I’d never believed.

My eyes followed the slope of his shoulder down to his elbow and then back up again over his shoulder to his neck. When he moved his hand, at last, to close his Bible, I felt as if he were tugging me with an invisible cord, like I was a puppet. Part of me wanted to go and sit in his lap, put my head on his chest and listen to his heart beat. Part of me wanted to know every thought, word, and deed he’d ever had, uttered, or committed in his life. I wanted to devour every moment of him like an endless series of communion wafers, have each one melt on my tongue and then stick it right out for another. I wanted to drown his sorrow with wine from a gilded chalice while I floated in endless adoration. His. Mine. It was all the same. It was holy and binding, more so than anything I’d ever known. I wanted him to feel what I felt, to know my truth which in that moment felt grandiose, certainly more important than anything biblical.

It didn’t cross my mind he regretted the previous night, or that he felt sadness for a single moment that flowed between us during the past months of our strange courtship. A tension caught in the string between him and me. I felt it more surely than anything, could practically hear its twang as it snapped taut between us. I was not nearly fool enough to think for a second I could offer this man redemption after what we’d done, nor had I any desire to redeem him. I felt him, even though he was some distance from me. Maybe I was still half asleep. Maybe I still dreamed, but I swore we were even more connected in that moment.

I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t want him to know I was awake, and I didn’t want him to know I was watching him. Stuffing my face into the pillow, I allowed sleep to take me back to a shallow place where I dreamed unsettling, disjointed things that seemed all too vivid, but I couldn’t remember when I eventually woke a couple hours later.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Gabe said almost the moment I opened my eyes. He was back in bed with me. He wasn’t wearing the robe. I rolled like a hedgehog into his body and felt he wore nothing at all.

“Hey you,” I smiled blearily. “You been up long?” I wondered if he’d offer the information about his sunrise service on the balcony, or if I had in fact dreamed it.

“A little while. I’m an early riser. It’s an occupational hazard,” was all he offered. He nuzzled my neck and kissed my shoulder. “You look like an angel when you sleep.”

“Get out,” I scoffed. “I’ve been told I snore and I absolutely need to brush my teeth right now.”

“Ah, of course,” he said like a chastised boy. “I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with the morning after customs.”

“First off, don’t be sorry. And second, we have spent the night together before, Gabe. This isn’t exactly our first morning after.”

“Sure, but not like that. That was. . .”

“Mmmh, it really was,” I agreed.

“Are you okay? I mean, uh, did I take care of you like a lover is supposed to?”

“You more than took care of me and several times at that! I might actually have a little trouble walking today from how well you took care of me. Are you alright?” I thought of him bowing his head into his prayer clasped hands.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. “So, I’m a little tired this morning, but I’m glad I experienced that wonderful mystery with you.”

“We’re lovers now,” I sighed and pressed my fingers against the side of his throat. His pulse was steady, strong, slow.

“Lucia, we were always lovers,” he whispered and started rubbing my waist and hips. I felt him harden. He put a hand under my knee and brought it up over his hips like he was going to take me again, but I had to pee. I told him to stay put while I used the bathroom. I splashed water on my face, brushed my teeth, and returned to find him on his back, cock poking straight up in the air, waiting for me.

I climbed on top of him and straddled his waist. Rising up on my knees, I tickled my clit with his head for a few moments, then wiggled down between his legs to wet him with my mouth. He groaned loudly at the sensation of my tongue rubbing up the thick vein on the underside of his shaft, and he breathed out a heavy sigh when I circled my tongue around the little packet of flesh right under his head. Coming back up to my knees, I climbed over him and aimed him like a spear at my hole. He gazed at me in wonder as I lowered myself onto him and started to move. Bracing myself with my hands on either side of his chest, I rose and fell over him. I knew neither of us would last long in this particular position.

Instinctively, he brought his hands to cup and play with my breasts. I twisted my hips and rode him until his prick found the spot inside of me that made me cry out so loud I worried the front desk would get complaints about us. When my inner walls started to spasm, I brought my fingers to my clit to stroke myself to completion. I opened my eyes, which somehow had been squeezed shut in concentrated pleasure. He watched me touch myself. His stare made me go harder and within moments I was throbbing around him, flying up and down over his cock, pounding him into me as I came. As I caught my breath, I bobbed on top of him. For a moment he looked almost confused. “Can you come like this?” I asked breathlessly. His answer was to pull me down so he could get my breast in his mouth and to fuck me almost savagely. He came when I clutched his face and forced my tongue into his mouth, our teeth clashing. My breasts mashed against his chest and he grabbed my ass and held me down on him as he fell over the edge in me.

“Did you like that?” I asked with a sated grin as I settled next to him in bed.

“I feel. . . changed. . . am I even me anymore?” He wondered aloud.

“Of course you are you,” I said.

“Did that feel good for you?”

“Yeah. Amazing,” I propped myself up on my elbow and looked at him. “Did it not feel good for you?”

“Baby, it felt incredible,” he touched the spot between my brows where I scowled. “I just didn’t know. . . I didn’t know it could be like that and still be love, if that even makes any sense?”

“It can be however we want it to be,” I rubbed little circles over his heart.

We ordered breakfast to the room. I showered and by the time I was out, it was there. I guzzled coffee and stuffed waffles and eggs into my face like I hadn’t eaten in a week. Gabe was quiet and seemed distant. I wrote it off as him being tired from intense fucking and charting new territory. I tried to ignore the memory of him in silent, early morning prayer, because every time I thought of that, feelings of doubt and dread crept into our cozy vessel like icy water. I stopped up every little crack with conversation about whatever came to my mind. I told him about the fairy tale themed amusement park my grandma took me to not far from where we were staying when I was only five or six. “She took me to a tea party with a lady dressed up as a princess,” I explained. “But I believed she was totally real. I couldn’t even speak I was so enchanted by this sparkly, satin gowned character who was probably just a teenager from the local high school’s drama club. But to me, I was in a wish come true. We ate little cakes and sipped tea out of these tiny cups. I couldn’t even speak when she asked me what dream my heart wished.”

“You were a shy kid,” Gabe intuited.

“Yeah. I mean, I guess I’ve always been kind of shy.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“No. Well. I become provocative when I’m feeling insecure. It’s a wall or a defense or something, I guess.”

“What would you tell the princess now?”

“Hmm? Oh you mean my heart’s wish?” I set my coffee mug down on the table and considered his question. “I dunno. Maybe I’d tell her I wished for a happiness that was safe and free? Or that my octopus grants get funded and I can work on my passion project for a little bit before I become a slave to academia.” I crunched a piece of toast and watched his face process my words. “What about you? What is your heart’s wish?”

“Oh, I suppose the regular things. No more hunger or war or racism,” Gabe said. His priestly answer prickled my skin but I let it be.

We decided to drive through the mountains and take a walk through a scenic village. Holding hands, we poked through shops and picked up tourist information at a kiosk. Both of us were too tired from the previous night and that morning to do any major outdoor activities, but we thought we’d explore our options for the next couple of days. We bought lunch at a deli and brought it to a park. When we finished our sandwiches, we sat in the grassy field, leaned up against one another’s backs for a long time while we sipped ice tea. We watched a bunch of families come and go, trailing tantruming toddlers, surly teenagers, and placid preschoolers holding their mom or dad’s hands. An old man walked his dog. A young couple took pictures of one another with their phone, then held it up to capture the two of them together. A middle aged woman sat on a bench and read a book. We observed the world move around us while we sat still, and I wondered if anyone noticed us. I wondered what we looked like to other people. A hard nugget of something I couldn’t even name began to calcify in me, somewhere within my ribs. It felt like a new piece of skeleton which didn’t belong. I wriggled my back against Gabe’s trying to get comfortable, trying to focus on the purple patch of flowers planted in a barrel not far from us, trying to realign myself with the parts of my life that felt safe and true and real.

Gabe sensed my restlessness and suggested we continue our trek through town, maybe drive a ways. “This brochure says there are a few covered bridges nearby that are not to be missed,” he said in a tour guide manner that was meant to make me laugh. It worked. He rose from the grass first. In his jeans and deep green shirt, backlit by the sun, he looked like an imposing tower above me, a dark column. Solid. Enduring. I stretched both my arms and he pulled me to my feet. When we kissed, he tasted like sweet tea and the garlic from pickles. He was delicious. I didn’t ever want to be anywhere but next to him, but then his eyes sparkled like autumn and I was irrationally frightened. He didn’t notice my fear, so we walked on.

While he stood in line for ice cream, I wandered into a shop that sold incense, gems and minerals. I found a chunk of jade shaped like a soft, almost round heart. It was smooth and a little larger than a silver dollar. I purchased it and presented it to Gabe as he handed me my cone of black raspberry chocolate chip.

“What’s this?” He asked, digging through tissue paper. He pulled out the stone and held it in his cupped palm.

“It’s my jaded heart,” I explained. “So you can keep it close to you forever.”

“I will do just that,” he whispered and slipped it into the front pocket of his jeans. For an extra moment, he kept his hand over the spot in his pocket where it was now hidden, and a part of me felt safe again. I smiled as I ate my ice cream.

On our way back to the hotel, we stopped at a river. It must have been a dry summer in the mountains, and a good deal of the river bed was barren. Tumbled, round stones gave way to caramel colored sand, and in the very middle, large boulders sat like broad shoulders for the water to wash around. We walked along the edge for a while and took off our shoes to wade in. Even late in summer, the water was stingingly cold to our bodies and we gasped and grinned at one another as we made our way to climb up on one of the larger rocks. Afternoon sun warmed our river chilled feet and ankles and we reclined on the rock, basking like turtles to soak up the heat. We held hands and gazed up at the mountains and clouds. Gabe sat up and smiled. He pointed to the opposite side of the river.

“Will you look at that,” he said. I raised my head and turned to find what had caught his attention. It was a crop of wild daisies and black eyed Susans growing along the bank of the river.

“Pretty,” I sighed and laid back down on my back. He laid on his side next to me. I ran my fingers up and down his arm. His skin had tanned over the summer, and the hair on his arms was almost golden.

“This is it,” he said.

“What?”

“This is how I always want to remember you.”

“Yikes, Gabe, you make it sound like you’ll never see me again. Should I be worried?”

“Nah. I mean, it’ll be different when we go back. My schedule will be a lot more demanding, Lucy, you’ve got to understand that.”

“Sure. I mean, so will mine,” I countered. “But I’ll still see you, right?”

“Yeah. It’s just. . .”

“What? It’s just what, Gabe? You’re scaring me.”

He kissed my forehead and played with the hair around my face. “Don’t be scared, Daisy. It’s just that if I saw you every minute of every day for the rest of my life, this is the exact minute I want to take with me when I go.”

“I may be jaded, but you are fatalistic,” I exhaled. I silently wondered if making love to me had put him in mind of death and going to hell. He continued staring at me with a mix of adoration and sorrow. “Why don’t you take a picture?” I suggested. He’d left his phone back at the hotel, as he’d sworn it was off and he was not taking any more calls during our time. So I dug my phone out of the pocket of my shorts and handed it to him. “I’ll send the picture to you,” I said. He took a couple shots of me lying there with the field of daisies behind me. I lifted my shirt just a little so a swath of my tummy bared itself and I left my fingers tauntingly at the hem of my shirt as if flashing a secret sign. I sat up and he took a couple more pics. When he was done, he flipped through what he’d taken and smiled with satisfaction. I looked over his shoulder and said I didn’t like the ones of me squinting in the sun, to which he said I looked even more adorable and I rocked my body against his. He handed my phone back and I turned the lens around and cuddled next to him to take a selfie of the two of us. I felt his body stiffen anxiously beside me, but he didn’t protest, so I took the photo. “What, are you nervous I’m gonna send this to Linda to put in the church bulletin?” I asked softly.

Gabe smiled sadly. How could sadness possibly make someone so impossibly beautiful? It was almost too much for me to bear. He made his way off the rock and back to the bank where our shoes were. After a few moments of wrestling with myself, I joined him. He must have sensed the chaotic bubble of questions churning in me because he said, “Let’s just enjoy this time we have. Can we do that?”

We walked back to the car in silence and were silent for most of the drive back to the hotel. I couldn’t really describe what I felt then, but for the first time I knew exactly what it meant to be the other woman.

By the time we returned to the hotel, we were early for dinner, but because we were both tired, we didn’t mind. We chose to eat at the hotel’s less formal pub. We sat at the bar on stools next to each other and ordered burgers and beers.

“Bet you don’t sit at too many bars,” I said.

“You’d win that bet,” he agreed, “but I bet you’ve enjoyed your share.” I raised an eyebrow and he quickly corrected himself. “I didn’t mean that in a derogatory way. I just meant you have probably had a lot more fun in the world than I have.”

“ _Good times, bad times you know I’ve had my share_ ,” I sang tunelessly.

“Ahh! A classic!” Gabe cheered. “Are you a fan?”

“Not particularly. I mean, I don’t mind them, but I had a boyfriend in high school who was a huge fan.”

Gabe chewed a bite of burger and took a long sip of his beer. “Have you had a lot?”

“Of what? Boyfriends?” I looked up at him from under my lashes. He nodded. “I’ve had my share. . . _in the days of my youth,_ ” I shrugged, keeping with the Led Zeppelin theme.

“How many?”

Our thighs were pressed together, we sat together so close. I almost wondered if I had even heard him correctly. It wasn’t typical dinner conversation. “I don’t know,” I said slowly.

“That many?” He exhaled.

“No. I didn’t mean I’d lost count. Not exactly. I just meant I’ve had a few boyfriends and girlfriends and some of them have been lovers. It wasn’t like I was keeping score.”

“Girlfriends?”

I stared at him, silently challenging his belief I could still be loved. “Someone once said there is a time and a place for everything and that time and place is college,” I said. The random moments of tension I’d experienced during the day gathered into a tidy bouquet of anger in me. “I did a lot of stuff. I don’t really see how this can come as a surprise to you, but if you want me to catch the first bus back I can-“

“Lucy! Stop! I don’t mean that at all. I’m curious.” He wiped his mouth and hands on his napkin and pushed his plate away from him. The bartender jerked his head at us to ask if we wanted two more and I gave him an enthusiastic nod. “We are from different worlds. Probably different planets. I’ve been taught certain things are against what I’m supposed to believe in and I’m just trying to wrap my head around some of this.”

“Things that go against your beliefs? Such as?”

“Well, like this morning,” he swallowed and lowered his voice. “When you touched yourself and it was so blatantly erotic. And now you tell me you’ve had girlfriends? In my world, it is drilled into us that same sex relationships are wrong. I mean, it doesn’t make me love you less, but I-“

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I snapped. The bartender set our drinks in front of us and I picked up my beer and drained half of it in one gulp. “So you can take the man out of church but you can’t take the church out of the man? This is fucking unreal.” I shoved my plate across the bar with a clatter.

“Lucy, come on. Don’t make a scene,” he whispered and put a hand on my arm. I glared at him, stood, and walked out of the bar. I wasn’t sure what was happening to me, but I had to get away. My line of sight narrowed to a small circle. I sensed Gabe was beside or behind me, but I couldn’t really see him and I definitely couldn’t feel him. I couldn’t feel my feet traipsing through the lobby to the elevator, and I couldn’t ascertain how I appeared at our hotel door. My fingers could barely hold the key card, but I got into our room. I paced the length of the room a couple times then I started tossing my stuff into my suitcase. I was in full flight. I didn’t even realize I was crying until I felt Gabe pull my arm and turn me around toward him.

“What?” I yelled.

“What is this? What happened? Talk to me, please.”

“I told you I couldn’t be loved! And you’ve gone ahead and proved my point. So my abortion was okay, but my body count is a deal breaker?”

“Lucy. Baby. Look at me. I never said any of those things.” He smeared his thumb over my cheek, trying to wipe my tears.

“Better I know sooner rather than later,” I exhaled sharply and continued packing. He caught my hands like they were wild birds and held them still in mid air.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked.

“Away? I don’t know?”

He brought my arms around his neck and kissed my cheeks. “You’re not going anywhere, Baby,” he whispered and the heat of his breath thawed the icy tunnel I’d been in. “I have your heart, remember? You can’t leave me here with your heart."

“You can’t love me,” I bawled.

“I can love you,” he whispered and caressed my neck. “Your past is trying to trick you. Don’t let it. I can love you. I do love you.” He rubbed my back and lifted my shirt to touch my skin. “I love you so much.” his voice trailed off as his mouth covered mine. His chest rose and fell steadily against mine and stabilized the ragged rhythm of my respiration. “There she is,” he said, looking deeply into my eyes and smiling softly.

“Oh, God,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, Gabe. I’m so sorry. I thought you’d think I was dirty and gross and you’d look at me differently. And now I’ve gone and freaked out on you again. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He sat me down on the edge of the bed and walked into the bathroom. I heard him run the tap and when he came back, he had a cool, damp cloth which he dabbed at my eyes and put on the back of my neck. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve this place. Gabe, I’m so sorry.”

He knelt in front of me, a hand on each of my knees. I could barely look him in the face, I was mortified by my behavior. He seemed completely calm and his eyes seemed kind. “Has anyone ever loved you unconditionally?” He asked me.

“I don’t know. Maybe my grandma?”

“Then maybe you aren’t familiar with the concept, but I don’t put conditions on loving people, Lucy, especially not you.” He took my sandals off my feet and tossed them toward my suitcase. My body was limp as a rag doll for him as he brought my legs up onto the bed and laid me back on the pillow. “Can I hold you?” He asked. I nodded and he took off his own shoes and laid down behind me. He curled his body against mine and draped his arm over my waist. I took his hand and held it against my chest. He pushed his face into the back of my neck and inhaled deeply. “You’re so quick to assume the worst, not only in other people but mainly in yourself. Will you allow me to explain what I was awkwardly trying to say?”

“Yeah. Okay.” I sniffled, and there was a long pause, so long I thought maybe he’d fallen asleep or had changed his mind about saying anything else at all to me. But then he spoke.

“In the last two days, I’ve done things with you that until a few months ago, I had resigned myself to living without forever. And now I don’t know how I’ll manage to live without these. . . these pleasures. You’ve challenged my core beliefs. You’ve changed me.” He moved closer and spoke in a rumbly voice below my ear so my entire body rippled with goosebumps. “All day long I kept getting half hard thinking about you on top of me, touching yourself. I don’t judge it. Baby, I want it. I want it again and again. I want it so bad it actually hurts, not just physically, but mentally, spiritually. I’m in _terra incognita_ here. I’m so lost in you, lost in this unending want. Is there any part of you that can understand?” He’d moved his hand under my shirt and touched my tummy, lightly kneaded my flesh with his fingertips. I rolled onto my back so I could look at him. My face felt puffy and ugly, but he touched my lips and throat and didn’t look away. He gazed down through the lenses of his glasses which reflected the light so I couldn’t really see his eyes. I took off his glasses and put them on the table next to the bed. When I pulled his face down to mine to kiss, he whimpered a low groan that made my belly flip.

“I understand,” I said on his lips. “At least I think I do.” I was fully back in my own skin and his touches, kisses, and warm voice were grounding, comforting, and reassuring.

“So lost,” he murmured again.

“Me too,” I offered.

“Occurs to me I’ve never been in love before, at least not with a woman. I’ve been infatuated with ideas, with a world I fell into because at the time there was nothing else. Now, here I am.” He shook his head and got that beautiful-sad look again. “I’ve lived all this life, and I’ve never been in love.” He fell back on the pillow and we laid there together, staring at the ceiling as if our answers were there, as if something brilliant would be projected and show us a way. My fingers found his arm and held fast. “Have you ever been in love?” He asked rather suddenly.

“I don’t think so,” I answered. “Not really.”

“Then this is a first for you too.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

He pulled me on top of him and held me against his body, stroked my back and said, “All the fear and uncertainty you feel, I feel too. I just express it differently. Do you get that?”

I thought about the tunnel through which I stormed back to the room, only a short time before this very conversation, and I thought there was absolutely no way in hell he could possibly know what that felt like, or he would be tearing shit up also. But I didn’t say that. I just put my head on his chest and let him hold me. Our legs sort of braided together and our breath was slow and soft. If nothing else, in that moment, our breath was the same as it rose and fell.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter that is honestly pure smut just for the sake of smut. Sorrynotsorry. xoxoxo.

We got out of the Jacuzzi and turned out all the lights. After drying each other, we wrapped in oversized towels and stood in a single candle’s light.

Gabe seemed so languid and at ease in his own body. His shadow was ebony silk, flowing easily in the candlelight. I told him he reminded me of a big cat, the way he inhabited his own skin with perfect confidence and grace. “Like a panther, or a puma,” I said.

“I love your imagination,” he pulled me toward bed.

“What else?” I questioned. “What else do you love?”

“Mmmmh, I love this line of your jaw, how it flows into your beautiful neck. Your defined tendons and lovely collar bone. I love to kiss it and feel your breath hitch,” he did so, “like just. . . now. . .” he kissed my jaw and neck again and made me quiver. Our towels fell away and our bodies fell onto the welcoming mattress.

“What else?”

“This,” he put his hand on my waist. “I love how tiny you feel in my hands, how you yield almost instantly when I touch and stroke you. . . . like. . . this,” he kissed my neck as he squeezed my waist and stroked over the crest of my hip. I was putty he could have sculpted into anything. “And I love this,” he said and put a hand under my knee, brought it over his legs and pressed into my belly. “I love when I’m hard against your soft, little stomach.” He rubbed up my thigh to the small of my back, then down between my ass to tickle my pussy from behind. “Every inch of you feels so good.”

His voice mesmerized me with its deep, constant pace. I rubbed lightly against his thigh and his erection slid on my stomach. Our bodies were warm, malleable from the bath. “What else?”

“I love the noise you make when I do this,” he whispered hoarsely. He pushed my leg off of him and spread me open. Instinctively, I arched as he licked the erect bead of my nipple and fondled my clit.

“Aaaanhhh,” I mewled. “Fffuck, Gabe.”

“Oh, yeah, then there’s that,” I felt his lips smile against my breast, “I love when I touch you and you swear.”

“Not really!”

“I do, Lucia, God help me but I do love it. It’s so sexy.”

“What else? What else do you love?”

“I think it’s your turn,” he chuckled. “What do you love, Baby?”

“Well, for starters, when you call me Baby,” I purred and wriggled against him. “That makes me into a puddle for you. You could do anything to me. Anything.”

“What else, Baby?”

“This,” I sighed and stroked the soft patch of hair on his belly down the tapered line to his pubic area. “This is so sweet.”

“What else?” He asked eagerly.

“This,” I took his cock in my hand and gave it a firm squeeze. He shuddered and I smiled. “And this,” I whispered as I smeared his leaking seed around his tip.

“What does it feel like to touch me?” He asked, clearly enjoying our new, little game.

“Mmmh, so nice. The best. You feel thick and hard, but also like velvet,” I stroked him. “It feels powerful when I hold you, like I have a mighty scepter in my hand.” I tickled his balls and then back up his shaft.

“What else,” he gulped.

“Kisses,” I said and licked the seam of his lips to open them for my tongue. “Our kisses are the nicest thing I’ve ever felt.”

Our lips played for a while until he whispered, “What else,” against my mouth.

“This,” I said and gently touched over both his eyes. “Your eyes open doorways to worlds I’ve never even imagined. I want to walk through every time. I’d go anywhere with you. Every. Time.” I pressed kisses into his eyelids.

“And what else?” He sounded delirious, almost desperate, like the sound of my voice was turning him on even more than the feeling of his dick rubbing into the cleft of my vulva.

“This,” I murmured and pressed my chest against his. His hair teased my nipples and the heat between us grew dangerously hot. He buried his face between my breasts and held them against his face, then held them together so he could lick from one to the other. I cried out.

“I love this. . . these,” he murmured.

“Oh, I’m aware,” I panted softly.

“I want,” he began but if he spoke more after those two words, it was muffled by my breasts.

“What? What do you want,” I arched against him, seeking more pressure, more touch, more sensation. “Tell me.”  
“I want you,” he rumbled and the helplessness in his voice made my thighs tremble.

“What do you want to do with me,” I played with one of his nipples. I licked his neck and sucked on his lips.

“I want to feel you,” he gasped and turned me in his arms so my back was to his chest. He filled his hands with my breasts and kneed my legs apart.

“More, tell me more,” I thrust my ass back and felt his cock head at my slick entrance.

He put his mouth on my ear and whispered, “I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you like this, okay?”

“Yes! Okay!” I cried and brought my hand behind me to help guide him into my pussy. “Fuck me!” He started moving in me, all the while holding my breasts, biting, sucking, and licking my neck and shoulder. But it was a tricky position on our sides, so when he accidentally slipped out, I popped up on my hands and knees and nodded at him breathlessly. He took his position behind me and slipped into me easily, but hard, so I yelped when he hit my cervix with more intensity than I’d expected.

“Oh! Are you okay?” He asked, wrapping his arms around my waist. I felt his chest on my back, and rose to a kneeling position so he could hold me and be deep inside of me.

I nodded as my body adjusted to feeling him from this position. After a moment, the discomfort became a beautiful feeling of fullness. “Mmmmh, yeah, I’m good. So good,” I breathed and moved on him, urging him to do the same. He brought his fingers down to my clit and played me until I swelled and surged with my first climax. Then I went back on my hands and knees and told him, “Fuck me hard now and I’ll come again for you. Do it, it’s okay.”

He held my hips and slowly thrust in and out, but the discovery of how good it felt from that angle had him speed up almost instantly. “Baby, you feel so good,” he moaned. He pulled out to his tip and exhaled sharply as he sank back into me.

“How do I feel? Tell me,” I demanded.

“Ahhh, you’re so hot and wet and tight. You’re so tight around me. You feel amazing,” he was breathing heavily and I squeezed my inner walls around his cock to make it even tighter for him. “Yeah, don’t stop. Don’t stop doing that with your tight little pussy,” he begged and slammed against me. His words happily surprised me, but I didn't get distracted. I kept pulsating and came again, spurred on by the sound of his ardent moaning and begging for me to fuck him, right before he pulled my hips into him, brought me up on my knees again and clutched me fully against his body, an arm wrapped around my belly and an arm wrapped around my breasts. “Coming! Oh, I’m fucking coming in you so hard! Lucy, oh!”

I stroked his arms and eventually he collapsed with me. I exhaled a deeply sated laugh as he tickled my neck with his beard, kissing me compulsively, nipping and lapping at his little bites after. “Well done, lover,” I murmured and twisted my head back to catch his lips in a kiss. I swirled in his arms.

“Never,” he panted. “I never imagined anything could feel like that.” He clung to my body.

“Pretty awesome, right?”

“Baby,” he breathed and kissed my forehead. “Every time I feel even closer to you. And that was. . . the things I said. . . it was like it wasn’t even me, but it was. It was like a part of me that had been asleep forever and you woke him up and made him do and say things. I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“God, no! It was incredible. You made me feel heavenly, Gabe.” I lightly stroked his face and neck. “It was so so good. You were so hot. I felt absolutely taken by you. I loved every moment.”

I got up to get us water and when I returned, he looked pensive. “You know you’re beautiful and precious from every single angle, Lucia?”

“I feel that with you,” I said and handed him his water. He drank almost the entire glass and handed it back to me. I put it on the nightside table. “You don’t have to tell me that, though. Every position is fun and can be loving, you know? You don’t have to feel bad cuz we did it that way, or cuz you said those things. Do you have any clue what a turn on it was to hear you fucking me like that, knowing you love me? It felt so good for me and I know you were with me.” I cuddled into his body. “Like, I don’t want you to feel like you have to sneak off onto the balcony and pray for absolution after I fall asleep,” I said.

He nodded. “Ahh. So, you woke up this morning?”

“Maybe?” I nuzzled his chest, remembering how private and voyeuristic it felt to watch him at morning prayer.

“You don’t have to feel ashamed. I’m not,” he explained. “It’s a habit, a ritual, something I have done every morning for years and probably will always do. It’s a part of my day, but it isn’t because I’m sorry to be here with you. I did not pray for absolution this morning, and I have no desire to ask forgiveness for what we just did. I want to own it and savor it and I want to do it in every way possible with you.”

I muttered something into his chest neither of us could hear.

He touched my chin and tipped my face up so we were looking at each other in the dark, even though we could not truly see. I had no choice but to repeat what I’d said, with a ridiculous feeling smile I was happy he couldn’t see, and tears streaming down my face, “I love you, Gabe. I love you so fucking much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot freaking believe I have over 3k views on this story. The fact that it is an original piece, I would have been pleased if even ten people gave me the time of day. You have no clue how much you all mean to me, especially if you left kudos or comments. Gah! xoxoxo.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angst, smut, angst sandwich. 
> 
> This chapter started off as a short one and then I was like wait, wut?? And I added a thousand more words of smut, because that made sense. Enjoy! xoxo.

Even taking the long way home over and through the mountains, our trip home went much faster than I wanted. Our chatter in the car was pleasant and light, but when we stopped mid way for bathrooms and a bite to eat, I found it hard not to salt my fries with my tears.

“Hey, what’s up?” He touched my hand.

“I’m scared to go back.” Even as the words came out of my mouth, they surprised me. I hadn’t realized until that moment that the hard ball of uncertainty in my gut was fear, but when I said it, I realized it was the truth.

“Why?”

“I mean, cuz it’s gonna be different.” I could barely look him in the eye. I shrugged my shoulder up to wipe my tears with my shirt’s collar. We were in the large open courtyard of a tourist stop. The noise of end of season tourists and long distance truckers filled the space, and although everyone was completely occupied with eating, buying fudge and taffy, or looking at glossy brochures, I felt utterly conscious of my emotions. I had this feeling everyone was going to turn in unison and start pointing and gawking at me. _Look at the crying freak_ , they’d chant.

We’d spent the past two days hiking, kayaking, and reveling in all the mountains had to offer. At times, I caught myself feeling uncomfortable urgency, like we were trying to cram an entire lifetime of activity into a four day getaway. But I didn’t want to spoil it. I did not want to freak out again on him after the pure love he’d shown me. When I felt these pangs, I trained myself to look at Gabe, and his square shoulders stabilized me. If I managed to trap myself in the gleaming honeycombs of his eyes, I felt safe, small, and confined. I’d be able to keep paddling or walking or eating. Knowing Gabe had me tucked inside of his own being allowed me to continue breathing.

Despite the moments of anxiety, it had been a great time. Nature wasn’t the only territory we explored together. We discovered countless ways to touch. He reminded me of a child opening a series of gifts, each more lavish than the last, as he surveyed my body. During the day, we subtly teased one another to the point of torment, our laughter being the only release we could experience in public shops or restaurants. At one lunch, Gabe spent a ridiculous amount of time holding and examining my hands. He turned them over and touched them from every angle, measured them against his own and kissed each finger. After we finished our meal, he practically dragged me to the car and drove hastily to the most secluded spot he could find. His kisses were rough and his beard chaffed me, but it felt deliriously good. As we kissed, he unbuckled his pants, took himself out, and wrapped my hand around his length.

I knew what he wanted without him even asking. I didn’t want for him to have to ask. I wanted to show him I knew, that I could read him, that I wanted to please him. So, with a genuine grin, I sank down over him and took him in my mouth. I started to lightly lick his head, but he growled, “Please don’t tease me. Oh, God, I need you. I need to feel you.” His voice was as rough as his kisses and could have made me climax right then. I took him deep and fast in my mouth and he moaned with relief as I bobbed up and down, sucking hard, holding his root fast. With my other hand, I undid my shorts and touched myself. I knew he was watching me and it was making him insane. When I inserted my finger inside myself, I felt his cock throb in my mouth. He bucked his hips and I swirled my tongue on the underside of his cock. He pushed my shorts aside a bit so he could better see what I was doing and I made a little show of circling my clit slowly with just my middle finger. At this, his back bowed back against the car seat and he flooded my mouth.

He knew I hadn’t come yet, so he pushed me back in my seat, plucked my finger out of my folds and set to work on me with his tongue. I was so close, it only took a few minutes of him sucking and finger fucking me before I was tumbling against his lips, around his fingers. When he felt me come, he stayed perfectly still so he could feel every pulse of it. “You’re delicious,” he murmured as he came back up and embraced me. “I barely made it through lunch I wanted you like that so bad.”

“That felt incredible,” I sighed. “But I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle much more activity. I think I need a nap! You’re wearing me out, Mister, with that appetite of yours.”

“Must be the mountain air,” he said and I swear he looked proud at my mention of his masculine virility.

“Mmmh, we should buy a cabin and never leave, in that case.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” He said, and the look of pride left his face and was replaced by something much more distant and difficult to read.

During those hours, I’d managed to suspend my disbelief, to completely be with Gabe like he was my partner in all things- life, love, recreation. To think that now we’d be parted by truth and obligation was beyond my comprehension. It was beyond tolerable.

“We knew it was time limited, Lucy,” he offered with a quiet sigh. His words dragged me back from our session in the car to the bustling tourist stop. Without even looking at him, I knew his eyes were beautiful-sad and just knowing it made me gulp back a sob. “Right?” He gave my hand a little pat and sat perfectly still, as if waiting for my response.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Of course.”

Back in the car, I kept sniffing back tears. Gabe chose a playlist of Beethoven, and I lost myself in the dramatic rise and fall of the music. The world was a blur outside my window as we sped along, and part of me felt thrashed about in waters of a dark and stormy sea. It startled me when Gabe reached for my hand and murmured, “ _You are suffering, you my dearest. Oh, wherever I am, you are with me_.”

“That’s pretty,” I said.

“I can’t take credit for it.” He stared straight ahead at the highway, and eventually he took his hand and returned it to the steering wheel. “Beethoven wrote a ten page love letter that is known as _Letter to the Immortal Beloved_. In it, he supposedly said that line about his dearest one.”

“I didn’t know that,” I said.

“Well now you do,” he shrugged.

“Who was she?”

“No one is entirely certain. People have theories, but it’s an enduring mystery. No one even knew about his love until his death when the letter was found.”

“That’s heartbreaking,” I observed.

“It is,” he agreed. “His whole life was heartbreaking. He composed his greatest works while he suffered stone deafness.”

“It’s a compelling story, for sure. Is that why you love him so much?”

“Perhaps,” he considered my question and his answer. “You can certainly sense unbearable emotion in his music. At least I can.”

After a few moments of silence, I asked, “So, am I your immortal beloved?”

“I believe so,” he said and we drove on without further conversation.

At my house, he got my bags out of the back and brought them up to my porch. The dusk air was tinged with fall crispness and the sky was deeply purple and indigo. Even after just a few days, it seemed we returned to a different season.

“Do you want to come in?” I asked.

Gabe pushed his glasses up on his nose and shuffled his feet. “I wish I could, but I really need to get back to my place.”

“Just for a little bit?” I cringed at how plaintive my voice sounded. Gabe shook his head. “Well, can you take me home with you?” I pressed.

“I think you know I can’t do that.”

“Cool. Whatever,” I turned to my door but turned back to him at the sound of his voice.

“I’m bushed from the drive, Daisy, and I have a long night of work ahead of me. I have to show up and meet with the Sunday school teachers tomorrow and I need to prepare a little speech for them.”

“So your Sunday school teachers are more important than me?”

“Of course not. But Sunday is our back to school service and it requires a little effort on my part. This is my job.”

I frowned. “My bed is going to feel really big and empty,” I said and slid my hands around his waist. We stood in the relative shelter of my porch, but he still glanced up and down the street. “Fuck,” I shook my head and dropped my hands to my side.

“Lucy, I’m sorry,” he bowed his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger like I was giving him a headache.

“No, it’s fine, Gabe,” I huffed. “I just forgot for a couple days what a huge, fucking embarrassment I am to you. It’s just a sharp welcome back home, I guess.”

“You’re not an embarrassment! You’re the opposite of anything even remotely resembling an embarrassment. But, _I am still a priest_.”

“Right,” I snapped. “Well thanks for a lovely get away.” I slung my pocketbook over my shoulder and lugged my suitcase over the threshold into the foyer of my apartment, where I flicked on a light and fumbled for a moment with my keys. Gabe was at my heels.

“Come on,” he pleaded. “I can’t let you go like this.”

“Then stay with me. I don’t want to be alone,” I whimpered. I threw open my door and stepped back into my old life, the life where I was a grant-writing-research-assistant, the life where I was not a princess sleeping in enormous beds with a lover who made me feel safely like the center of the universe. He took my suitcase and carried it into my apartment, then closed the door behind us.

“I can’t do that, Lucy,” he said. Deep in my brain, I registered conflict and compassion on his face, but the screaming fear of being left was way too loud for it to matter to me. Gabe pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead. He rubbed my back and tried to soften stiff edges sorrow starched in me.

“Please,” I persisted.

“Another night, I promise,” he said.

“When?”

“Well, I have Monday off. We can spend the whole day and night together.”

“That’s like four days away,” I sobbed.

“You must have stuff to do to get ready for your semester? And I’m sure June has been wondering where you’ve been these past four days?”

“I don’t give a fuck!” I wailed. “I don’t give a flying fuck about any of that!”

“Well, you have to,” he said firmly and gripped my wrists which had flown up in the air around my head. “We both have to care about our own lives, Lucy. We have to keep it together until we can be together again.” He pulled me into his body and held my head against his chest. The tears I’d let out in dribs and drabs during the day came out of me now in a helpless flood. He absorbed it and stroked my back. “I didn’t know this would be so hard for you. Maybe it was a bad idea,” he said and his voice sounded just as weak and helpless as my heart felt.

“Little late for that, don’t you think?” I shot back.

“What can I do? What can I do right now, Lucy?” His voice edged on desperation. “Seeing you suffer pains me deeply. What have I done?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “This is just really hard.” He nodded and looked away from me. “Isn’t it hard for you? Or can you just leave so easily, Gabe? Cuz I’d love to know your secret. Please tell me how you make it easy to walk away from me.”

He walked back and forth along the length of my sofa and rubbed his face. “Of course it’s hard, but I don’t know,” he gazed up at the ceiling as if the answers were written on it. “I’m older, I guess, and have a different point of reference when it comes to work and life. And I’ve never been in a relationship like this before.”

“ _I have never been in a relationship like this before either_!” I pounded my chest with my fists.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Do you? _Do you know_? Because I’m in love with you Gabe.”

“Yes, I do know. I love you too, Lucy. I am _in_ love with you too.”

“But what is this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we just spent four days pretending to be this. . . this couple, and now we aren’t. How am I supposed to make sense of that? What am I supposed to do with that? I feel like my head is going to burst into flames. And you’re so chill! You can just walk away and go home and write a sermon like none of it happened?” I was crying so hard I could barely get the words out and wasn’t certain they even made sense or were spoken in the English language. Through the watery glaze of my tears, I saw he’d stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked down at the floor. I couldn’t see his eyes, but his posture was devastating. I watched his shoulders rise and fall. He was breathing very deeply and slowly and I didn’t know what to make of any of it, but it frightened me.

I froze in place, sobbing raggedly, wondering why he wasn’t trying to hug me and make it better, wondering why he wasn’t saying anything. I honed in on the flecks of silver in his sideburns and couldn’t paste together the experience I was currently having with him holding me in the four poster bed in New Hampshire. It was like my existence was fractured beyond anything I recognized, and beyond repair.

When he spoke, his voice was calm and kind. He raised his head to look at me with eyes that were not just beautiful and sad, but also exhausted. “I need some time to take care of my life, Lucy. I need to have a job. I need to have _my job._ Please understand this.” As calmly as he spoke, there was a severity to his words, a sort of warning. I swallowed back any protests and nodded. “What we have is real. It happened. It’s happening,” he stepped toward me, took his hands out of his pockets and put them on my biceps. With a gentle, but insistent pressure in his touch and his voice, he continued, “but what we have won’t look the same as what other people have. If we are to continue, we have to accept that, for now.”

“For now,” I repeated. “But will that change?”

“We will figure things out,” he embraced me and kissed the top of my head. I clutched handfuls of his shirt in my fists and inhaled his spicy, woodsy smell.

“You have my heart,” I whispered against his chest.

“I do,” he replied. “And you have mine. Keep it safe until we are together again, won’t you?”

“Yes,” I said and sniffled. We parted and he walked toward the door. I kept my feet firmly rooted where I was, because I was afraid if I followed him out onto the porch, I’d start crying again and it would get even worse.

At the door, hand on the knob, he paused, turned to me and said, “For the record, Lucia, there is nothing easy about this. I will never know how to walk away from you.”

And then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your kudos and comments are my LIFE FORCE right now. I can't even explain how much you all mean to me. Please feel free to come and visit with me at Tumblr. . . ScarletteStar. I really have mixed feelings about Tumblr, but there is no DM feature on AO3 and that sort of sucks, so Tumblr seems like the only other option for connection with folks out side of comment threads. Anyhoo, I'd love to see you there, cuz you'd make it better!!
> 
> Footnote: the line, "You are suffering, you my dearest. Oh, wherever I am, you are with me," is not my own writing. It is from a translation of Beethoven's Letter to the Immortal Beloved.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is officially the longest thing I have ever written now... and I am so happy you are all sharing this experience with me! Thank you so much for being here and for your beautiful, thoughtful, kind, generous, unreal comments. xoxoxoxox.....

The next morning I reached for my phone and turned off the DND button I’d swiped while I’d been away with Gabe. June had sent me about a hundred texts and had left me six voice messages in a variety of silly voices. I called her while my coffee brewed.

“And where the fuck have you been?” Her voice was a friendly mix of annoyance and curiosity.

“I was away with Gabe for a few days,” I said, immediately wishing I’d had coffee prior to calling her.

“The priest?”

"Yeah.”

“Wait. You went away, like out of town, for a few days with Father Mc Hot and Steamy?”

“Yes I did. And oh my god, don’t call him that,” I sloshed coffee into a mug. “I’m not allowed to call him Father.”

“Shit that’s hot. And steamy,” June said admiringly.

I opened my fridge and realized my milk had likely soured while I’d been gone and I hadn’t gone out yet to replenish it. “Fuck,” I hissed under my breath. Rifling through my cupboards I found a can of evaporated milk and cradled my phone between my shoulder and ear while I searched for a can opener and punctured it’s top. June continued hurling a steady stream of questions at me. “I dunno, it was nice,” I said, attempting to answer all of them with a catch-all phrase.

“Hahah, yeah, no. Lululemon, you do not get to go away with a priest for a whole bunch of days and ignore your best friend, who by the way was wondering if she should start calling hospitals and morgues, and then just say it was nice. I want details. All the details in graphic technicolor detail.”

“Honestly, June, I didn’t go away with a priest. I went away with Gabe. He’s a guy. Like a regular guy and it was nice.” _The words didn’t sound that ridiculous, did they?_ Somehow, they managed to fool June. I took my coffee to my couch and curled up in a corner with it for the rest of my inquisition.

“Did you fuck?” There it was. June wasn’t so much fooled by my description of my relationship with Gabe, rather she just wanted to cut to the sex.

I giggled. “Ummmm, yeeaahhh.”

“Oh god! What was it like? Was it hot?”

“It was incredible. And yes, very hot.” I set my coffee down so I could rub my eyes, which were still heavy with sleep, while I contemplated just how much I was going to disclose to my bestie. “I was his first, June.” Remembering our first night- him pressing into me inch by inch, whimpering at the wonder of it, feeling scared to hurt me and then taking me delightfully deep- was quickening my heart rate and heating me between my thighs. I did not know how I was going to make it four days without seeing him, without feeling him take me, claim me, possess me.

“Holy shit. You popped priest cherry? Lulu, you are like a sexual unicorn right now! Do you even realize this? You have completed one of the erotic wonders of the world!”

“Ah, it wasn’t like that,” I demurred. “It was really sweet.” I wanted to tell her more. I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to show her the picture of us by the river, because she was the only person in the world who knew and she was the only person I could tell. “And seriously, you can’t tell anyone.”

“Babes, it is in the vault. But I need more details. Are you free for lunch? Oh oh, and also there is this back to school faculty party we’re invited to. Did you get the email? Are you going?”

“I haven’t checked my email yet,” I sighed. After a few days of contemplative conversation with Gabe, June’s rapid fire questions felt jarringly intense.

“Of course you haven’t because you were too busy having world record literal religious fornication. Well, anyway, there’s this party and we have to go. You know how I’ve been crushing so hard on Claudia?”

“Claudia Meyer? The visiting sculpture prof from Australia?”

“Yes! The one and only.”

“So you’re on a first name basis with Dr. Meyer now?” I couldn’t help laughing. It was shocking enough that research assistants were being invited to what was undoubtedly going to be a super swanky, catered event, but June planning a seduction of a professor who practically had celebrity status at our university, bordered on hysterical. However, if anyone could pull off such a feat, it was my best friend.

“I will be after tomorrow night,” June asserted. “She is going to be there and this could be my chance to achieve my own sexual wonder of the world. Say you’ll go with me. Please please please?”

I agreed to go to the party Saturday night at the ocean side home of a department chair. Part of me wondered if I was supposed to tell Gabe, or even if I was obligated to ask his permission. He had texted me a couple of times and we’d spoken briefly on the phone.

“You better tell those Sunday school teachers to keep their hands to themselves,” I joked.

“Will do,” he sighed and I could hear his smile.

“I miss you,” I said. “Hearing your voice is making my nipples hard.”

“Lucia,” he exhaled. “Hearing you talk about your nipples is making other parts of me. . . hard.”

“Tell me more,” I purred.

“Maybe later,” he said. “I’m still at the office and have to go over the Sunday programs with Linda in a few. I can’t very well meet with her after getting all worked up with you on the phone.”

“Oh, am I getting you all worked up, Gabriel?” I giggled.

“Baby, you know what you do to me,” his voice was smokey. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too,” I said, my entire body set aglow at the thought of him sitting at his desk getting an erection thinking of me. The next day, I waited to hear from him for hours. When I didn’t hear from him by two in the afternoon, I shot him a text to let him know I was going to the party with June.

 _Getting ready for Sat pm mass_ , he texted back. _Have fun._

Setting my phone on the edge of my dresser, I tried not to feel disappointed by his response. I tried to think about him wanting me all afternoon and counting the seconds until we could be together again. Just as I opened my drawer to pick out underwear, I got another text.

_Had your jade heart in my pocket all day. . . can feel it on my thigh, even now._

My cheeks flushed and I smiled helplessly. With the thought of my little relic pressing against his firm leg, I picked out clothes for the evening and hopped in the shower.

June picked me up in her ancient jeep a little before five. She wore a strapless purple dress and chunky platform wedges in which she walked so effortlessly up onto my porch I commended her.

“You look unreal,” I gushed. “I don’t know anyone else who could pull off that dress.”

“Hopefully Claudia will be pulling off this dress,” she winked at me and we both laughed. She came in while I put finishing touches on my make up. She sat on the closed lid of my toilet and lit a joint.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked.

“Only the best idea,” she replied, holding the smoke in her lungs. I turned on the bathroom fan and opened the window. Part of me didn’t even really care what I looked like since the one person who’s head I would want to turn would not be there, but it seemed incredibly poor form to show up to a semi-formal work event reeking of weed. She passed me the joint and I took a discreet hit. It wouldn’t hurt to relax a bit, I thought and realized I was actually rather tense. I took another little puff and passed the joint back to June. She took another long hit and then gently snuffed it out on the side of my sink. She wandered out to my kitchen, and returned to the bathroom with two hefty glasses of wine.

“Babe, you’re gonna be wrecked before we even get there,” I laughed. She peeked up at me over the rim of her wine glass. She’d gone thick and heavy with kohl around her eyes and her cheeks were pale as a geisha. You’d never know she just spent summer in a seaside town by the completely white tone of her flesh, but she pulled it off with a flawless, almost doll like beauty.

“That’s the idea,” she said and drank her wine down. “What are you all lame and conservative now that you’re dating a priest.” She examined several of my lipsticks and chose a wine red one which she applied liberally.

“I’m not dating a priest,” I automatically replied.

“Oh, sorry, just fucking him then?” she tittered and I smacked her arm. Satisfied with my appearance, I returned to my bedroom to find a small clutch for the evening. June followed me. I picked up my phone to put it into my bag, but before doing so, I opened my pictures and flipped to the one of me and Gabe.

“Hey, look at this,” I said and held the phone out for June to look. She took it in both hands and her green eyes opened wide as she scrutinized the pic for much longer than I expected. She looked back up at me and then back down at the photo.

“Holy shit, Lucy,” she said and I was surprised she used my real name as opposed to some ridiculous nickname. She looked back at me again and whispered, “You’re in love with him. Aren’t you?”

I bit my lower lip, shrugged, and nodded. It felt good for her to know the truth. “Does he love you too?” Her voice was stern and sober.

“He says he does,” I said and cleared the weird lump in my throat. “He loves me. Yeah.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Just see where it goes, I guess?” I tried to make my voice sound confident and almost careless, but as June handed my phone back to me, I could see she didn’t buy my act for one second. She graciously let it go and we drove to the party.

When we got to the enormous house with its wrap around porch hovering over the ocean, June immediately disappeared into the throng of academics to mingle and find her crush. A five piece jazz band played light music, and tuxedo clad staff circulated trays of cocktails and appetizers. I nibbled some cheese and something made with puff pastry that was so delicious I had to practically sit on my hands to keep from tipping an entire tray back into my mouth. In between decadent bites, I hastily drank three champagne cocktails. Between the champagne and the weed, I had a pleasant buzz, and I made some chipper small talk with a few folks I knew from school. After about an hour, trying to come up with witty and interesting things to say became exhausting, so I took a glass of champagne out onto the deck and found a quiet spot to admire the ocean.

In my solitude with the music and chatter fading behind me, I felt the hard spot in my chest. When I’d heard people talk about a pit in their stomach before, I always imagined an empty space inside of them. But in me, it felt like an actual stone grew, something rigid and thorny, like the pit of a peach. The weird, new growth that felt like it wasn’t supposed to be there, was sharp and relentless. I missed Gabe. I wished he were there with me so we could talk about the sky and the way the stars were popping out like little freckles. I wanted to hear him quote some sage poetry or sing a couple lines of a tune close to my ear so I could feel his breath on my skin. My brain could not convince me to imagine him at the front of a church, offering communion to his parishioners, no matter how hard it tried; I could only see him in his jeans and a shirt I’d picked for him, gazing at me like he wanted to devour me.

“Fancy meeting you here,” the voice that turned me away from the ocean belonged to Tim.

“It is very fancy,” I exhaled a sharp, little laugh. “I feel pretty out of place, to be honest.”

“Nah, come on,” Tim said. “You should just feel pretty. You look amazing, Luce.”

“Aw, shucks. I guess I clean up okay,” I said. June had insisted I dress up, so I’d picked out a black dress made of thick, eyelet lace. It wasn’t exactly a cocktail dress, but it was dressy enough in a way that sighed end of summer. I added, “Although if I eat any more of those savory appetizer things, I think the seams on this number will start popping open!”

“The food is awesome this year,” Tim agreed. “Last year they did a clam bake on the beach and it was a lot less formal. Did you come last year?”

“I did not.”

“Well, It’s great to see you here this year,” he smiled his toothy smile and held up his glass to toast with me. He looked a lot more put together, in a beige linen suit and deep turquoise shirt that was unbuttoned at the collar, than when I typically saw him for our casual writing meet ups, or to visit the aquarium.

“I never would have guessed you own a suit,” I said, aware I was slurring slightly from the alcohol.

“I own several,” he winked. “I don’t wear them when I’m surfing or sloshing around with marine critters, but they come in handy for gigs like this.”

“It is quite a gig. I’m surprised they included the assistants this year, not that I’m complaining,” I said. “I sort of feel like I’m on a job interview, except I’m heavily tipsy.” We both laughed. He asked if he could freshen up my drink and I told him sure. While he was off finding cocktails, I dug my phone out of my purse. Gabe hadn’t texted me or called. Even though I wasn’t expecting him to, I still felt a sinking disappointment in my chest. I snapped a picture of the moon rising over the water and texted it to him without any words. “You and that phone,” Tim said as he returned with our drinks.

“Sorry,” I said and stuffed it back in my bag. We found a couple chairs and sat. He started telling me about the courses he was preparing for the upcoming semester and at a certain point I realized I was fairly drunk. “I think I should find June before I make a fool of myself in front of the entire faculty,” I told Tim. He followed me through the crowd until we located June, flirting shamelessly with the sculptor of her dreams. I rolled my eyes at Tim and said I’d call a cab. There was no way I was going to wreck June’s chance of making sexual history for herself because I couldn’t hold my liquor. Tim insisted he’d drive me home. “Oh, I wouldn’t want you to have to leave early because of me.”

“Are you kidding? I’d be your humble servant forever if you helped me escape this place.” After letting June know I was leaving, I realized how grateful I was to be getting out of there. Tim offered me his arm and I took it to help steady myself as we walked out of the party. He led me to his car and opened the door for me. On the short drive back to my place, he told me he was getting up early to surf the next day, so he was happy to be calling it a night. “You ever wanna surf? Or paddle board? Because I could get you a pretty sweet hook up with some free lessons,” he said.

“Thanks, but I don’t actually go in the water,” I explained.

“Huh,” he said.

“I know it’s weird, but it’s just this thing I have. I love everything inside of the sea, I just do not want to be in there with it all.”

“Yeah, no, I totally get that,” he said softly. “I think a lot of people feel that way.”

“Really?”

“Heck yeah. But if you ever change your mind. . . and no pressure at all, but if you ever do, I’m your man for the all access water adventure experience.” He pulled up in front of my place.

“Thanks, Tim. I appreciate it. And thank you so much for driving me home.”

“Anytime, Luce,” he said and it seemed like my name melted on his tongue when he said it. I smiled at him and was about to open my door, when he said. “Wait, allow me.” So, I sat there awkwardly while he dashed around the car to open my door and let me out.

“Such a gentleman,” I laughed and patted his arm. In a movement that was sudden and baffling, he had a hand at the back of my neck and was pulling me against him.

“I have to kiss you,” he whispered. “Please, can I kiss you?”

“What? Tim! No!” I cried. With a hand on his chest, I shoved him away from me as hard as I could. He stumbled backward. “I’m. . . I’m sorry. Just no. Not that, okay?”

“Gosh, Luce, I’m so sorry.” Even in the yellowish street light, I could see he blushed hot with shame.

“It’s okay,” I tried to soften my tone. “I just. . . well, I’m sort of seeing someone and I don’t feel that way about you.”

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone. I would never have stepped on any toes.” He sounded even more distraught than he looked. “You never mentioned. . .”

“I know, it’s just, well,” I stammered. “It’s new. I’m still figuring it out."

“Nah, you don’t owe me any explanation. I overstepped and that’s on me. Whoever he is I hope he’s sweet to you because he’s the luckiest guy in the world.”

“He's very nice. Thanks Tim,” I said, desperate to get into my house.

“Okay, well then. You got your keys? You’ll get inside okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks.” I started up onto the porch and gave him a little wave as he drove off. “What the actual fuck?” I swore under my breath as I let myself into my apartment.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have officially made it to Chapter 30 y'all!!!!!!! Whoooo hoooo!!!! Here is some more fluffy smutty smut smut for you, because, well, just because. As always, thank you for being here with me in this weird little story space, and thank you for the gifts of your comments and kudos. I adore you all. xoxoxo.

Even though the next day was Sunday, Monday was too far away. I woke early and debated texting Gabe, who I knew was getting ready for church services, if he wasn’t at church already. I’d managed to make it through the past two days on sheer willpower and a few texts, but I felt weaker than a single feather from a butterfly’s wing as I rolled alone in my bed that morning. My thoughts flitted from the events of the previous night, sitting alone on the deck in the moonlight, missing Gabe and longing for his company. The whole situation with Tim had been curious, and would take some smoothing over so it wouldn’t be awkward working with him, but I’d think about that later. I didn’t want to think about Tim while I was lying in my warm bed. I wanted to think about Gabe, about his big hands, how they made me feel small, and how feeling small felt safe. Thoughts quickly spun, like gold in a fairy tale, into desire.

I snatched my phone out of its charger.

_This is torture! I want you so bad. . . about to take matters into my own hands!_

Almost the instant I sent the text, my phone rang, “Don’t you dare,” his voice was playful. “I want you all for myself. I don’t even want to share you with your naughty, little fingers,” he said. I simultaneously surged with arousal at his possession, and shriveled inside when I thought of Tim, trying to kiss me the night before. I hadn’t a clue how Gabe would react to that little piece of information, and honestly, I didn’t want to know. Anyway, I rationalized, I’d averted the unwelcome advance, so it was a non-issue. When he asked about the party, I skimmed over a couple academic conversations and told him it had been mostly a bore, during which I missed him incessantly.

“I drank too much,” I yawned.

“Naughty,” he grumbled and my thighs trembled.

“Mmmh, you should come spank me. Put me right over your knee, and-“

“Oh that mouth of yours,” he exhaled a chuckle. “Listen, I think I can get free tonight. I have a meeting until about seven, but I can probably come over after that. How does that sound?”

“It sounds good,” I said.

“It does,” he agreed. His mouth was close to the phone. I could hear him breathe.

“How good?”

“I’ll show you later.”

“Tell me now, just a little,” I practically panted and stroked my fingers over my stomach.

“Uh uh, I don’t have time now,” he said. “Be a good girl and you’ll have me for two nights, okay?” His voice was powerless and thin, like it sounded when he was in my hands, getting stroked or sucked. I briefly toyed with the idea of sharing with him how my nipples had beaded at the sound of his voice, and my hips had pushed down against my mattress at his breathy request for me to behave. I loved thinking of him growing hard, being utterly distracted by me while he was getting ready for mass, but I agreed to cooperate so I could have him later.

It was a sparkling morning that started cool, but promised to grow quite warm. I thrilled at the idea of him coming home to me after work. It didn’t even cross my mind to go back to sleep, despite the mild headache I’d woke with from the previous night’s champagne. I went for a run on the beach, filled with absurd energy. I spent the rest of the day tidying the apartment and browsing recipes. I decided I’d make a simple salad, a fillet with mushroom sauce, and garlic mashed potatoes with cream cheese to make them extra rich. Instead of wine, I made a pitcher of red sangria, into which I cut up apples, oranges, strawberries and grapes. For dessert, I actually baked a pineapple upside down cake, which came out slightly lopsided, but not too shabby, considering it was the first one I’d ever attempted. I felt like a domestic goddess, something out of the 1950’s, radiating the healthy shine of serving her man. Of course in the wholesome picture of the pure home maker serving her man, there was no image of him in vestments, serving the Lord, but I wasn’t going to let that harsh my moment of happiness.

When everything was prepped, and the house was neat enough, I took a few minutes to look at the texts June sent while I was baking. She reported hard core flirting with Dr. Meyer, but the record breaking sex was yet to be seen. I snorted with laughter as I texted her that Gabe was coming over so I’d probably be incommunicado for the next couple nights.

 _Go get him, tiger_ , she responded with a long series of xo’s. I sent her a pic of my cake and told her I’d save her a piece, then specified I’d save her a piece of the cake and not Gabe.

I spent a long time in the shower, soaping and shaving until every inch of my body was silky and soft as a baby. And I mean every inch. When I got out of the tub, I rubbed jasmine and vanilla scented oil into my skin until it gleamed and felt smooth as satin. I couldn’t wait for Gabe to discover my hairless mound, which was already warm and moist, just thinking about him. I put on a short, slinky black dress that was much sexier than what I’d worn to the faculty party the night before. I applied a bare amount of makeup, but I didn’t bother with shoes, and I let my hair air dry into soft waves.

The sangria was chilling in the fridge, alongside the raw steak which was prepared in a light marinade. The salad was already made, so I sliced the mushrooms for the sauce and boiled the potatoes. While I worked, I drank white wine and listened to Bob Marley. Happiness and anticipation filled me in a way I’d never known. I bubbled with it. I lit candles and set the table. By the time Gabe knocked softly on my door, everything was picture perfect.

He was still dressed in his collar, and he had an overnight bag that he dropped on the floor so he could pull me into a big hug.

“Hey you,” I said and hooked a finger into his collar with a pointed look.

“I didn’t have time to change, I’m sorry,” he nuzzled my neck and walked me into the living room, still in his arms. “I wanted to get here as fast as I could."

“Totally fine,” I said. “I forgive you entirely.” In my bare feet, my head just reached his chin. I had to stand on tip toes to reach his lips with mine. As soon as we started kissing, he pushed his hand into my lower back and pressed me tighter against him. His kisses were big and sloppy, like he didn’t know what he wanted first or most- my lips or neck or jaw. He bit the apple of my cheek and his big hand clutched my ass. “Are you hungry?” I managed to ask.

“Starving,” he whispered, hot on my clavicle as he licked it up to my shoulder and bit me much harder than usual on the thick tendon there. I inhaled sharply as the pressure of his teeth in my flesh sent tingling waves up and down my spine. He was hard in his pants, rubbing against me.

“Gabe,” I whimpered, threading my fingers in his hair and lightly scratching his scalp. Dinner could wait. I hooked a leg around his and pushed into him, trying to place his bulge on the spot where it would give me the pressure I craved. Our hips mashed together and he let me work myself against him as I clung to his neck and he sought my breast with his hand. He caressed me over my dress for a moment, then pushed me gently down onto the couch so he could look at me. When I looked up at him, I was surprised to see his black outfit. He towered over me like an enormous shadow and I shivered with expectation, all the pent up joy I’d felt during the day overflowing in waves of desire now. He knelt between my legs and snaked his hands up my bare thighs under my dress. He rubbed over my center on top of my panties a couple times then worked his thumb in the side elastic and stroked straight up my slippery slit. He moaned when he felt the hairless flesh, and pushed at my hole with the tip of his thumb, his mouth slack with wonder.

“You’re so ready, aren’t you?”

“Mmmh. Yeah.” I nodded, hardly able to create words.

“Is this for me?” He slid his thumb over my clit and then into my hole and I gasped. “Are you this wet for me?” I nodded frantically. He dropped his head onto my belly and worked up the skirt of my dress so he could nestle his nose in my crotch. “You smell amazing,” he whispered and started pulling my panties off. I pulled his face up to mine and kissed him. When he got my panties off, he stared in between my legs. “Beauty,” he exhaled and cupped his hand over me. I wiggled against his palm, wanting more. He felt and matched my urgency. “I need you. Can I have you? I need you now. Right away. Okay?” He was already unbuckling his pants in fast, jerky motions with the hand that wasn’t on me, as he babbled against my lips.

“Yes. Yes,” I murmured, kneading his neck.

“Really?”

“Take me; I’m yours,” I cursed under my breath as I felt his cock, hot and hard, on my thigh.

He practically tore my dress off of me. I’d conveniently forgone the formality of a bra so he could have easy access to my breasts and he immediately set to work on one of my nipples which were begging for his attention. “I want you,” he moaned. “So bad, Baby.”

“Fuck yes,” I was going to come the second he entered me from the sheer magnitude of his desire for me.

“Can I have you any way I want?” His voice was almost shy.

“Of course,” I said and stroked over his black clad arms, over his lower back, down onto his ass. “Make me yours. Any way you want.”

He yanked the white collar out of his shirt and placed it on the coffee table behind him. Then he unbuttoned his shirt, baring his chest. I was surprised he wasn’t wearing a tee shirt, but I didn’t have long to linger on that thought. “Turn around for me, Baby,” he said. I knelt on the sofa and held onto the back. Widening my stance on my knees, I thrust my hips out while he positioned himself behind me. He didn’t even bother to finish taking his pants off, just shoved them down a bit. He put a hand down to guide his cock, and his other hand on my hips. “This okay?”

“Unnnnffffuck, yes, fuck Gabe, yes,” I stammered and slid down onto his cock. He collapsed on me, his chest on my back, forcing me over the edge of the couch. Once he was deep inside me, he brought a hand around my abdomen, and his other hand up to my breasts. I bucked my hips against him, yearning for more friction. “I love it so much,” I whined and he rolled a nipple in his fingertips. I managed to sneak an arm out from the grip he had on me to reach back and grab onto his neck. I could feel his muscles straining as he swallowed.

“Give me just a minute,” he sighed and went still. My nails worked at the back of his neck and up into his hairline as our breathing found a slower pace. “You feel so good, my love. I want you fast, but not that fast,” his chuckle was gravelly with his beard on my shoulder under my ear. After a moment, he began to move and then stopped again. In the stillness, his fingers came down to my clit and played me until I was almost singing for him. “It’s too good,” he whispered. “I’m not gonna be able to hold off for long at all. Do you feel what you do to me?” His voice, his fingers, his thick cock- it was all getting me there just as fast.

“Take what you need, Lover,” I moaned. “I’ll come with you.” I was already starting to come as I said it, and he began to thrust quick and hard and deep in me with a series of breathy grunts that sent me rocketing right off into a surprisingly strong climax. “Fuck!” I yelped as he slammed into me and came with a delighted peal of laughter that he muffled in the nape of my neck. “Fuck damn fuck. _Ohmygodfuckingfuck_ ,” I squealed, as I continued shattering all over him.

“That sinful mouth of yours is gonna make me hard again before I even pull out of you, Lucia, you little devil.”

“Uhhh, I’m sorry. I just lose control when you make me feel like that.”

“Don’t ever apologize for being you.” He peppered my back with kisses and we both laughed, drunk on the bliss we’d just experienced. He pulled out and pulled me into his lap. His pants were still half on and I was dripping with his cum.

“I’m going to make you all messy,” I sighed and kissed his chest with smiling lips.

“My dry cleaner will surely wonder what I’ve been up to,” he said, then added, “I’m sorry that was so fast.”

“Don’t apologize! I loved everything about that.”

“You did?”

“Couldn’t you tell?”

“Suppose I could a little,” his beard scratched against my throat and I felt his cheeks puff in a smile. “Something smells incredible. Garlic?”

“I was in the process of making you a nice dinner, Mister,” I said proudly.

“I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble,” he said, but he looked pleased.

“I went to lots of trouble and I liked it,” I declared. “It’s not everyday I get to cook for the man I love.”

“Say that again.”

“What? The man I love?”

“Yeah, who’s that guy?”

“I think you know him,” I teased his upper lip with a little flick of my tongue.

“Oh yeah? Tell me,” he murmured and put his hand low on my belly, his middle finger brushing back and forth over my naked mound.

“Tell you what?”

“You know,” he whispered and bit my earlobe.

I looped my arms around his neck and pulled his head close to mine, pressed my cheek against his, and in a low, soft voice, I said, “I love you, Gabriel.”

“That’s it,” he sighed. I said it again. He dandled his finger in my slit where both our spendings mingled together in a primal puddle. “It’s amazing,” he said rubbing the mixture together on the pads of his thumb and forefinger. I said it again. “Do you know how sexy it is to hear you say those words to me. If I hadn’t just come so hard, I’d be taking you again right now.”

“Maybe if we get some food in you, we can work your appetite. . . back. . . up,” I said with kisses on his neck, then got close to his ear and said again, “Cuz I love you.”

“That’s everything. Say it again.”

I must have told him ten, twenty times before he seemed satisfied. Or maybe he wasn’t satisfied. Maybe it was just the growling of our stomachs that distracted us with a laugh. He went to change his clothes, and I tidied myself in the bathroom. As I sat on the toilet with his seed trickling out of me, I fingered the spot on my arm where my implant was. I said a silent prayer to a god in whom I did not believe that it was earning its keep, then I put my dress and panties back on, washed up and went out to cook supper for the man I loved.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter because there was no logical place to split it up. . . I hope you won't mind!!!

Over the next couple months, life developed a strange rhythm with which I grew accustomed, if not familiar. Summer ended and my semester began in full force, as Gabe’s priestly responsibilities ramped up. Although my professional plate was more full than it had been before, I still had way more flexibility than Gabe. He would be called to give last rights or for some other crisis just as we sat down to eat, and I had no choice but to smile and allow him to take his leave for as long as he needed. For several weeks we didn’t even see one another, as he officiated weddings and funerals and tended to the parish youth group while their usual leader was in the hospital with kidney stones. I didn’t like it, but he made it more than worth my while when he returned to me and lavished infinite kisses and cuddles on my willing body.

In a way, I got used to his haphazard scheduled, and parting with him grew easier for me as I learned to trust he’d come back. Our reunions were infused with pent up passion, even if we’d only been apart for a couple days. We accumulated so much tension while away from one another, and the releases were just as extreme. In other words, I learned to part more peacefully with him in anticipation of the pleasure of his return. It was a new training, but I devoted myself to it like a mental yogi in order to make the relationship work in its unique way.

It also helped to focus on my own career. I resumed a teaching assistantship to one of the university’s marine biology professors, and I also scored a contract position writing random grants that had nothing to do with my department, but was stellar for my resume and brought in a little extra cash. Not that I needed money. My grandma had left me with a trust fund that would have allowed me to go to school and live carefree well into midlife, but that wasn’t what I wanted. I enjoyed working and feeling like my life had direction. Also, it gave me material to converse with Gabe about over dinner. He’d complain about Linda being a mother hen around his office, and I’d tell him about all the undergraduate students who could barely write a proper sentence on their exams. I relished the way he looked at me when I spoke about work, like I was a real person, a responsible grown up with her own life. Somehow it elevated me to his level, at least in my skewed view.

The work flow seemed relatively easy, or at least easier, since I’d already broken myself in the previous semester and more or less knew the ropes. The professor I assisted was easy going and respectful. He trusted me with prepping and proctoring his undergraduate labs once a week. It was a task I enjoyed. Seeing the younger students bumble in and ask me hundreds of uncertain questions was both bizarre and humbling. I couldn’t believe I’d reached a point in my life where I knew answers to anything at all, let alone where other humans regarded me in any sort of way. I reflected on this out loud over lunch in the cafeteria with Raffe and Tim one afternoon.

“What are you talking about, Luce? You’re like one of the most together people I know,” Tim said. It had been weeks since we’d gotten over the kiss-attempt-incident and had resumed our congenial, collegial friendship. Initially it had been awkward and I was surprised at how sad I was, and just how much I missed being able to casually chat with him. After a few weird and uncomfortable conversations, about which I never told Gabe, we were able to move past it. I just had to try a little harder not to notice the forlorn looks Tim cast in my direction when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.

“Please,” I scoffed. “I am the definition of a hot mess.”

“Hardly,” Tim said and shook a couple packets of sugar into his coffee.

“Ya know, I always forget how anxious you are, Lucy, because you do seem to have things together all nice,” Raffe chimed in. “But really, Kiddo, what other gal your age has their own house with floors they rent out, not to mention an advanced degree with a steady course towards the PhD program of their choice? Speaking of which, have you narrowed down any prospects for application yet? My fingers are itching to write those letters of recommendation!”

Last semester, we’d spent hour pouring over different websites and brochures for PhD programs around the country, and also some overseas. Since meeting Gabe, I’d barely had time to think about narrowing them down, let alone actually applying anywhere. Not to mention, the thought of going someplace far away from him now seemed impossible, which brought me back to my initial sense of my life being an insane puzzle to which I had zero answers of my own. Apparently, no one else could see it so I was either amazing at faking it or the world’s biggest fraud.

“I dunno, Ray,” I hedged. “I think I might put off the doctorate for a bit. I’m sort of in the zone here at the moment. And if we get our grant, I want to see where that goes.”

“Well, you can’t put it off too long,” my older artist friend chastised with a wagging finger. “Look at what happened to me. I put my life on pause and ended up Frankie’s little woman and never got to pursue my dream career in modern dance. True story.”

“Oh my god,” I laughed so hard I almost spit out my coffee. The image of short, paunchy Raffe skipping around a stage was incredible.

“Does this have anything to do with the new man in your life?” Tim asked. My cheeks instantly heated. “Oh, dude. Was I not supposed to say anything,” poor Tim gaged my expression and mirrored it, looking stricken himself.

“A new man?” Raffe asked.

“Bit of a dark horse, apparently,” Tim added. “Sorry to blow up your spot, as the kids say, Luce,” Tim said.

“Ah, no worries,” I shrugged. “It’s nothing, really.”

But it wasn’t nothing. Not by a long shot.

Part of my new routine included the “new man in my life”. While Gabe’s job was a lot more unpredictable than mine, he tried to see me every chance he got. Most weeks, that meant he came late Sunday evening and stayed through Tuesday morning at my place. We found other ways to connect during the week, sometimes for a quick lunch or early dinner in between his many meetings and obligations. Of course, if we went out in public, we had to be careful and observe a formal distance between us that seemed painfully artificial. But the other option meant being cooped up in my apartment.

“What’s your place like?” I asked him one morning. I had classes from two until eight that evening, and we were sharing a leisurely breakfast on my deck in the autumn sun.

He shrugged and wrapped his hands around his mug of coffee. “It’s small. Nothing fancy. Why do you ask?”

“I dunno. It just seems weird we’ve been seeing each other for months now and I’ve never been there. I’ve never even asked about it. All I know is you rent it from the diocese and it’s out in the woods someplace. What does it look like? How many bedrooms? How many floors does it have?”

“I guess you’d call it a salt box style house. There are two bedrooms, one I use as a home office and music studio of sorts. It has two floors. Well, three, if you count the unfinished basement.”

“What color is it?”

“Gray shingles,” he smiled at me. “You want to see my house, don’t you, Daisy?”

“I do,” I grinned. “I really do.”

He grumbled that it was entirely insane, but he could deny me nothing when I smiled at him like that, squinting in the sun so my nose crinkled.

Figuring there would be less chance of random people stopping by to visit him later in the evening, we planned I would drive out to his place after I finished work one night that week. I was so excited, I could barely focus on grading students’ labs as the evening ticked on.

He’d already texted me the address, and I had a vague idea where he was situated, although I’d never been out to that particular part of town before. I never had a reason to visit the densely wooded area where he lived. I texted him I was on my way, and he texted back a thumbs up, which I took to mean the coast was clear. I made my way from the university to his road, which was further from the church than I would have imagined. The directions had me turn off onto a dirt road, which led through the woods and into a little clearing where I saw his car was parked in front of a quaint, gray house, beyond which was a view of the bay. It surprised me. I hadn’t expected he would be right on the water. The first floor lights were lit, and smoke puffed from the chimney. I took a deep breath and realized for some bizarre reason, I was more anxious about seeing his home than I had been at our first date. In a way, it was madness for me to be at his house, where anyone could stop by at any time for a wide variety of parish related reasons. Getting out of the car, I wondered briefly if there was any part of him that wanted to get caught, but he was already opening the door and standing on the front steps, waiting for me, so I didn’t have long to ponder the implications of such logic.

He ushered me into his house and closed the door before he wrapped his arms around me and kissed each of my cheeks. “Look at what you have me doing, you little devil,” he whispered, but he was smiling. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“This is so cozy,” I said as he took my jacket and draped it over the arm of a chair. His front door opened into a small living room with a traditional layout of sofa and chairs, plus a fireplace, in which he had laid a tidy fire. There was a shelf of books that was void of any pictures or nicknacks, in what I assumed was typical male fashion. “It’s so pretty out here. I didn’t realize you’d be right on the bay.”

“It’s nice. When I have the windows open I fall asleep to the sound of the tide,” he said.

“What smells so good?” I asked as I caught a waft of something savory from the kitchen.

“I made you dinner,” he said and I noticed he had a dish towel slung over his shoulder. “Are you hungry?”

“You cook? You cooked for me?”

“Sure I cook. How do you think I’ve survived on my own all this time? Come on,” he brought me into the kitchen, which was also small, and had a sturdy looking oak table and chairs. He’d set two places at the table. “It’s nothing too fancy. Just chicken with artichokes and mushroom over linguine. Sound okay?” He poured two glasses of wine and my jaw dropped. “Hey, Lucia? You alright? What’s the matter? You don’t like artichokes? I knew it was a gamble, but the recipe-“

“No! I love artichokes,” I interrupted him and took the glass he handed me. “It’s just. . . ” I had to swallow the lump in my throat and blink back tears. “I’ve never had a man cook for me before. Thank you for this, Gabe.” We clinked glasses and he told me he’d give me the rest of the tour after supper. While he finished cooking, I snatched a piece of crusty, Italian bread out of a basket on the table and dipped it in a little bowl of oil and spices. I told him about the labs I’d run and how I thought I got a sophomore student almost as captivated with octopuses as I was. I was figuring out how to work my magic at the aquarium to get her in to meet Luke.

“If anyone can work magic, it’s you,” Gabe said and brought a steaming serving dish to the table. Just as we were settling into our chairs, his doorbell rang. I looked at him and swore. “No worries. We are just two people eating dinner,” Gabe said calmly. He rose from the table and went to open the door. “Linda, you could have called. You didn’t need to come all the way out here,” I heard him say in a voice that was way more solicitous than I’d ever heard him use.

“Nonsense,” Linda said and appeared in the kitchen with a box of something I couldn’t see. “Oh, hello there,” she said to me, turned to Gabe and said, “You have company, Father.”

“I do,” Gabe said and didn’t offer more detail.

“Well then, I am so sorry to interrupt. I just didn’t think the CCD manuals should be left to chance.” She looked at me again. “We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but Gabe interjected. “This is Lucy. You met her at the church on night when we were having a tour of the choir loft.”

“Ah. Yes. You were contemplating joining the choir,” Linda said and narrowed her eyes at me. “But we haven’t seen you back there have we, dear? What brings you to Father Gideon’s house all the way out here so late at night.”

“Well, Linda, we could ask you the same thing, couldn’t we?” Gabe tutted and both he and Linda laughed. Gabe lowered his voice and said, “Really, you know better than to question pastoral care, eh?” I watched them both glance at me as if I were some wayward woman being offered good Christian grace at Father Gideon’s table. _Fuck that shit,_ I thought. Smiling, I stood.

“Actually Linda,” I made my voice as sweet as I knew how to make it. “I know your youth group is a diverse bunch and I just happen to be an instructor at the local university. I was telling Gabe that I could get them in for a behind the scenes tour of the world famous marine biology department.” I wasn’t a tall woman, but I was taller than Linda, and I pulled myself up to my full height in front of her.

“Well, isn’t that generous of you!” She gasped and clutched her hands over her chest. “I know _Father_ has been wanting to expand their academic inspirations.”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d say generous, exactly,” I improvised. “I actually have some ulterior motives. I know Gabe, um, _Father Gideon_ is well educated in music and music theory and while I can’t commit to being in the choir with my hectic teaching schedule right at this moment, I was hoping to exchange my services for his.”

“Oh!” Her coral lipsticked lips made a perfect circle.

“Yeah, I want to take the youth group on a trip to the aquarium in addition to the college, in exchange for some music theory lessons. I need to broaden my horizons and no one knows more about Beethoven.”

“Indeed,” Linda agreed. “Well, it looks like you were about to eat supper. I’ll be on my way.”

“Won’t you join us, Linda?” I offered.

“Oh, no, dear. I wouldn’t dream of it. I need to get back home to the old man before he starts to worry. I apologize for interrupting.” Her hands fluttered around her shoulders as Gabe showed her out of the house.

“Music theory? What were you thinking?” He asked when he returned. I’d already heaped a pile of pasta and chicken onto my plate and was twirling my linguine around my fork.

“It worked didn’t it?”

“Lucy, I’m sorry about that.” Gabe sat at his place and rubbed his face repetitively.

“Fuck her,” I said. “Fuck her and her forest green track suit.”

“She’s stopped by like this before, but I hedged my bets. I really thought tonight was clear.”

“No worries, _Father_ Gideon,” I cooed. “I’m going to fuck you so hard after we eat this delicious dinner you made me. And then we can talk about getting your youth group into the aquarium.” Gabe looked at me incredulously. I served him some food. “It’s really good,” I grinned. “I love artichokes so much.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yep,” I stuffed a bunch of pasta into my mouth. “You’re not the only one who gets to lie to your secretary,” I smiled. Linda didn’t threaten me one bit, but I knew it rattled Gabe, so I tried to play it cool. After dinner we cleared the dishes and drank a delicious hazelnut cordial on the couch by his fire. “This is a nice sofa,” I said.

“I can’t really take credit for that. Most of the house was furnished when I moved here,” he said. “I have a couple pieces that are mine, like that shelf over there and some stuff upstairs, but the fine ladies of the welcoming guild saw to having my house ready for me when I moved into it last year,” he shrugged and poured a couple fingers more into the glass I held. Gabe asked if I wanted ice cream.

I shook my head. “I want the rest of the tour.”

He led me up the stairs where there were two small rooms and a bathroom. One of the rooms had a bed and presumably was where he slept. The other room appeared to be an office. I flicked the switch on the wall inside the door and the room grew light. It had a desk with a computer, and bookshelves and chairs covered with papers. There was also a music stand with a full sized keyboard, and three different guitars hung on the wall. On the floor next to the keyboard stand was an amp and some other musical equipment I didn’t recognize. “This is where I work when I’m home,” he offered. “I write sermons or eulogies here.”

I walked in and took a seat in the chair at his desk. “Here?” I asked. “You work here?” I spun in his chair. He nodded.

“The light is nice in the morning,” he said. He was still standing in the doorway, watching me.

“And you play music in here?” I walked to the wall with his instruments and ran a hand over a deep, blue electric guitar.

“When I’m so inclined.” He lifted an acoustic guitar off of the wall mount and held it to his chest. He plucked a few strings and sat down in the chair at his desk from where I’d just risen. He tinkered with the guitar to tune it, then played a bit of something classical sounding that I didn’t recognize. After a few moments, he looked up at me, stood, and replaced his guitar on the wall. 

"Beethoven?" I asked. He shook his head.

"Bowie. _The Man Who Sold the World._ "

“I now have a better understanding of how you got those magic fingers,” I sighed. “Do you ever think of me when you sit here? Working? Playing music?” I asked.

He nodded. “I think of you everywhere, Lucia.”

“Do you like it here?” I asked, standing with my hands at my sides before him.

“I do. It’s a nice house. It’s quiet and easy to take care of.”

“Where is your favorite place?”

“Here,” he whispered and slid his hands around my waist.

“Yeah?”

“Mmmh,” he murmured on my mouth as he started to kiss me. I nursed on his lower lip and he sighed with a heavy groan. He flicked off his office light, took my hand and led me into the other room, the one where his bed was. He didn’t turn on the light, but there was enough light from the hallway to see his room was spare and clean. Other than his bed, he had one night stand and a dresser next to a closet, the door of which was closed. On the night stand there was an alarm clock.

“You don’t have any pictures,” I mumbled.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Everything I want to remember is in my head,” he said.

“Am I the first girl who’s ever been in your room?”

“No,” he answered with a mischievous smile. I glared at him and he laughed. “I have a woman who comes to clean every other Friday and she has technically been in my room to vacuum and dust.” I playfully slapped his arm, kicked off my shoes, and bounced into the middle of his bed.

“Okay, fine. Then am I the first girl who’s ever been in your bed?”

“You are my first everything,” he said. He laid down on the bed, laced his fingers behind his head, and looked up at me. “Any more questions?”

“So many questions,” I laughed and straddled his waist. I took off his glasses, set them gently on the little table, leaned over, and kissed him. “Many, many questions,” I said against his lips.

“Like what?”

“Is this your side of the bed?”

“My side? Hmmm. Well, I guess it is now. I used to sort of take up the whole thing, but since I’ve been sharing your bed with you, I’ve gotten used to staying on a side. Yes.”

“Do you ever lie here and think about me?”

“I told you, I think about you everywhere.” He put his hands on my thighs and rubbed up and down my legs.

“But do you ever think about me while you’re lying here, in your bed?”

“I do.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think about your big, beautiful eyes and imagine you just like this with your hair falling soft around my face.” His hands were heavy and warm on the small of my back.

“What else do you imagine?” I whispered and licked his earlobe.

“You really want to know?”

“I really do,” I answered. He told me to get up and stand by the side of the bed where he could see me. I complied, eagerly, curiously. “Now what?” I asked. He shifted onto his side, his head still on the pillow.

For a moment, he just looked at me as I stood there. When he finally spoke his voice was breathy, lusty. “Take off your blouse,” he said. Slowly, I unbuttoned my shirt, slid out of it, and tossed it at the end of the bed. He moved slightly, as if getting more comfortable. “Now your pants,” he said and again I did what I was asked. I stood before him in my bra and panties. He licked his lips. I was close enough that he could have reached out and touched me, but he didn’t. “Turn around in a slow circle for me, will you?” I nodded and slowly rotated on my spot, making sure to wiggle my ass a little and toss my hair for his consideration. “That’s it,” he sighed. “Lovely.”

“So you imagine me undressing next to your bed?” I asked. “Is that all?”

“It’s usually enough,” he shrugged with a small smile.

I stood in my spot and said, “Show me what you do while you think about me.” He seemed hesitant, maybe even embarrassed, so to help him feel more comfortable, I rubbed my hands over my belly and up to my breasts. He moaned softly as he watched me play with my breasts over my bra and then slip a hand inside to pinch one of my nipples. His hand practically flew to his belt, and he unbuckled, unzipped and had his pants down and off in a matter of seconds. His cock was hard and pulsating in the cool air of his room. “Show me,” I said again and he took himself in his hand and started to stroke his shaft. While he did that, I buried a hand in my panties and felt the heated slick between my legs.

“Like a dream,” he said. “I can’t believe you’re here.” He sat up and pulled off his shirt, then extended a hand to me. “It seems criminal to be touching myself when I could be touching you,” he murmured on my breast. I shivered. He pulled me under the covers and got me out of my underwear. Completely naked, all our skin on skin it felt like a strange enchantment where I could barely tell where I ended and he began. He asked if I was warm enough and if I felt good and I nodded against his shoulder as I reached for his cock and told him I’d feel better with him inside of me. He took me slowly, while leaving little kisses all over my face and neck and shoulders. I wrapped my legs and arms around his back and held on to him as if I’d fly off the face of the earth if I let go.

“What are you doing to me?” I whimpered as the heated coil in my belly began to spread out in waves over the insides of my legs. Putting one of his hands under my ass, he didn’t speed up at all, but stayed slow, hypnotically slow, and deep so while his pelvis pressed down on my clit, his cock touched the spot deep in me that was going to make me come completely undone.

“I’m loving you,” he whispered and brought me through my climax with the slow, steady strokes as he lightly kissed my face.

“Now you,” I begged breathlessly. “How do I make you come when you imagine me here?”

“So many questions,” he said and kissed my nose. “Can I really show you?” I nodded and told him he could do anything, show me anything.

“I’m yours,” I said. He pulled out of me and I whimpered at the sudden loss of him filling me. But then he was straddling my chest, sheathing himself in my breasts. “Is it okay?” He asked. I nodded enthusiastically and squeezed the soft pillows of my breasts against his hardness. He braced himself on the headboard and rutted in my cleavage. Looking down at me, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I said. “I love it. I love you,” at the sound of my voice, he grunted, gave two more short little thrusts and spilled on my chest and neck.

“Oh god, oh god,” he gasped. He lowered his body on mine and kissed me. “Thank you,” he sighed in my ear. Reaching onto the night stand, he grabbed a box of tissues, sat up, and began to wipe his semen off me. “Stay right there,” he said and dashed into the bathroom. I heard him run the water and he returned with a warm cloth that he used to finish cleaning me. “Another first,” he said and we both laughed.

We knew I couldn’t stay the night, but we cuddled for a while and listened to the sound of the waves outside his window. “I love it here. I love your little house,” I said. “Thank you so much for having me over.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’d say anytime, but we both know that’s not something I can reasonably accommodate.” He sounded sad.

“Well, now I have an excuse to come and visit you at work so we can plan our trips with the teenagers.”

“Were you serious about that?”

“Of course I was. Dead serious.”

“That’s actually pretty awesome of you.”

“Well, I was serious about the music theory lessons too,” I said and gave his nipple a little tweak.

“You’re going to get me defrocked,” he said with a pat on my thigh.

“Oooh, _defrocked._ I do like the sound of that! But really, I’ll talk to Tim tomorrow and see when we can get a bunch of passes for the aquarium. It’ll be fun! And I can show you my octopus friend.”

“Sounds good.” He was quiet for a few breaths and then asked, “Does Tim know. . . about us?”

“No. Well, not exactly.”

“Not exactly? What does that mean, Lucia?”

I sat up on my elbow and rolled my eyes. “Well, there was this awkward moment at a party and I sort of mentioned I was seeing someone, but I didn’t tell him it was you, or anything about you. So, don’t worry. Your cover is not blown.”

“I see,” he said. “But just out of curiosity, what was this awkward moment?”

“God, Gabe, it was totally no big deal,” I tried to dodge the question, but he did not look away and I could tell he was not going to let it go. I told him how Tim tried to kiss me, but it was just a misunderstanding and nothing happened. “He’s a colleague and a good friend. That’s all. I promise. Are you upset?” Gabe shook his head. He sat up and pulled his shirt on. He handed me my clothes and I started dressing as well. When we got to the front door and were saying goodnight, I asked him again if he was upset.

“No. I’m not upset, Lucy,” he said and his tone was sincere, but his eyes were beautiful-sad and I was confused. It felt like I was trying to decipher a foreign language in attempting to understand his expression. “It is what it is. I don’t have any claim on you. Truth is, you could be dating Tim, or sleeping with ten different people and I’d have no right in the world to be upset.”

“But I’m not dating Tim,” I insisted.

“That’s not the point,” he said. “It’s alright, really. I’m not upset. I just never realized what it would feel like when we got to this point. Another first, I suppose.”

“What point is that?” My voice was shrill, demanding.

“The point where I realize you have a whole life ahead of you and I could potentially be holding you back from living it.” Gabe shook his head and took both my hands in his. “For every other sin I’ve committed with you, there would be none greater than being so selfish I prevented you from living a full life.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Gabriel! You sure know how to ruin an evening. I love you and I’m living my life just fine and I don’t need any of your paternalistic bullshit to tell me what I might or might not be missing out on, okay?” I threw my arms around his neck and mashed my lips against his. “I fucking love you and I am not interested in Tim.”

“I love you too,” he said. I joked that I didn’t want to have to worry about him and Tim getting into fisticuffs over me at the aquarium and he smiled. Then I told him to go back to bed and imagine me lying there with him, holding him all night long, holding him until we could be together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How is everyone doing? Are you sick of me yet??? As always, thank you for reading my story. . . it is a story I've wanted to tell for a long time. It is a story that has been in my heart for decades. I'm thrilled with you all and feel so encouraged and blessed by your presence here in this magical realm of smutty angsty goodness with me. Thank you all so much.xoxoxo.


	32. Chapter 32

After our evening at his house, Gabe seemed more cautious about our visits. He didn’t stop coming to my place, but going out to restaurants made him uncomfortable and jittery so we spent most of our time together hunkered down in my apartment. I didn’t mind in the slightest. They were some of the happiest times not only of our relationship, but of my entire life.

When we weren’t rolling like furious waves in my bed, humping in the shower, or having quickies up against my kitchen sink, we excelled at domestic life. It was a utopian novelty for both of us, as neither he nor I ever cohabited with a romantic partner before. We cooked together and ate leisurely meals by candlelight. His stomach was easy to please, but he always seemed beyond delighted by anything I made for him, especially my homemade pasta sauce and giant meatballs. He declared a prowess over my grill, a skill he explained he’d acquired from years of church barbecues. While he excelled at cooking any meat to perfection, I liked it best when he made simple, comfort foods for me. Grill cheese served with tomato soup from a can. Macaroni and cheese from a box. Blueberry pancakes and sausage for supper.

We shared our favorite movies with one another, snuggled under an afghan on my sofa. I’d never seen his favorite movie, Casablanca, and raged at the end because it was so devastating. Gabe laughed and pinched my chin, stating _everyone_ knew how Casablanca ended. He wasn’t quite certain what to make of my favorite pick, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, but he held me when I was reduced to a weeping puddle at the end, as I always was when I watched that picture. Together, we viewed Moulin Rouge and debated which one of us would be the penniless writer, and who would be the courtesan. We never quite reached a resolution on that debate.

It was hard to imagine I’d only known him since late May. Four months had passed like four decades. He knew me better than anyone ever had, or so it seemed. I would have told him anything, given him anything, done anything for him. Through him I felt I knew myself in a different way. Seeing the world through his eyes gave me a new lens and new understanding of life and love. It was unconscionable I could possibly be missing out on anything, or neglecting to live a portion of my life, he so completed me.

I asked him if his secretary had given him a hard time about seeing me at his place and he just rolled his eyes, a nonverbal cue that he didn’t want to get into it with me. His silence on the subject, albeit suspicious to me, only fueled my motivation to make good on my charitable services for his youth group. Tim was more than happy to obtain a group pass for the aquarium. As the summer traffic had slowed considerably, we were able to plan for a weekend mid-October with relative ease.

Gabe reluctantly agreed to let me come to his church office one afternoon to drop off the bundle of tickets and brochures. He’d briefly tried to argue with me that it would be conspicuous for me to come to the church, but I countered it would be more strange if he randomly showed up at work with the materials, having obtained them from one of his out of office rendezvous with me.

Linda greeted me like the rabid gatekeeper of his sacred space. Smugly, I smiled and stated my business. When she tried to say I could just leave the stuff with her, I let her know it was imperative I see _Father_ Gideon. “I need to explain the process to him so they don’t give him a tricky time at the aquarium ticketing,” I explained. She buzzed his office and a moment later, Gabe opened his door and stepped out into the reception area. “Hello, Father,” I cooed and he scowled as he led me into his office and shut the door.

In stark contrast to the dark confines of the confessional, Gabe’s office was large and sunlit. It was in a more recently constructed addition, on the back of the church proper, and was modern in style while still having architecturally conservative edges and antique-looking furniture. His desk, in the center of the office, was a mahogany behemoth. It had a sheet of clear glass on top of it, no doubt to protect the fine wood beneath. He had some books and stacks of paper on his desk top, but they were neatly arranged. I spent a moment taking it all in, admiring the bookshelves that matched his desk and were filled with tomes that appeared ancient and important. He watched me meander through his space, his scowl replaced with a look of kind amusement. Quietly, he walked over to the three large windows and lowered their shades, one by one. When he approached me, he stood quite close and said, “Strange having you here.”

“You haven’t _had me_ here yet,” I blinked up at him. He smiled.

“No, I suppose not.”

“But you’ve imagined it?”

“I don’t think so,” he said slowly. His fingers seemed to tremble as he touched my jaw. “Feels like worlds are colliding. Feels like. . .” he began but didn’t finish because his mouth was on mine and he was pulling me against him. I still held my pocket book and the bag with his field trip materials in it, which I dropped to the floor with a soft clatter so I could thread my arms around his waist. I bit the spot on his neck just above his collar and just below his beard and he moaned.

“Shhhh, your watchdog will hear,” I whispered. He responded by picking up a remote and turning on some classical music at a moderate volume. “Oh, this sounds familiar. What is it?” I cocked my ear to capture the quick notes of a violin.

“Vivaldi,” he mumbled against my forehead and his beard made me giggle as it tickled me. “The Four Seasons, specifically Autumn, played by Itzhak Perlman. This piece is the allegro, that means it’s played fast.” He reached for the remote again and clicked a button so the music skipped to the next track. “And this is adagio, means slow.”

“Mmmm, slow,” I said and licked my lips.

“Now that is a devilish smile. You’ll be the end of me yet, Lucia.”

“Well, you can rest assured that you’ve now given me a music lesson and we haven’t lied to that brassy biddy out there.”

“Oh, she means well. She’s just protective of me.”

“Protective? I think she’s got a thing for you herself and wouldn’t mind taking a big bite out of you, Father.” I bit his neck again for good measure.

“Hey, what have I told you about calling me that. And anyway, Linda is almost two decades older than me and has been married for almost as long as I’ve been alive.”

“Fair enough, Gabriel,” I rolled my eyes. I picked up the bag and handed it to him. There wasn’t much to explain about it; I’d said that as an excuse for Linda, and anyway, I was going to see him several times between now and the trip so if he had any questions he could surely ask. We chatted for a few more minutes, until the next couple tracks of music played and then I had to get to the university. He kissed me chastely on my cheek and I felt a strange distance had crept between us, but wasn’t sure what it was or what it meant. I asked him.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the word dissonance as it applies to music. Two sounds that don’t blend together smoothly. A tension or a clash happens and creates something rather unpleasant.”

“Okay?”

“I’m experiencing a cognitive version at the moment. That’s all.”

“My presence has created an unpleasant clash in your brain?” I frowned as I slung my pocketbook over my shoulder.

“Not exactly. It’s not you. It’s me. It’s just hard standing here, dressed like this and seeing you and. . . wanting you. It feels wrong in a way I’m able to ignore when we are elsewhere.”

“Gabe that sounds dark,” I sighed. His words didn’t quite fit with the experience of his kisses and caresses just moments before, or with the light bliss I expected love was supposed to be. Then I realized I was experiencing my own cognitive dissonance. I didn’t like it at all, so I squashed it back into a shadowy corner of my mind and did my best to ignore it.

“Did you have to tell Tim about us to get the passes?” He asked, throwing me off guard with his complete change of subject.

“What? No, of course not. Relax. I know how to keep a secret and Tim doesn’t know a thing. It’s all good.” I kissed and hugged him several times, trying to reassure him everything was fine and he had nothing to worry about. “You’re the only person in the world who knows anything at all about me. You’re the only person who really knows me,” I said. “I don’t tell just anyone anything, okay?” Placated, he nodded.

Later that afternoon, he called me. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said. “Seeing you here in my office. . . it’s like it did something to my brain.” He had meetings until late and I was in the lab with students until after eight. “I probably can’t stay all night,” he said. “But can I come over just to be with you for a little while?” I agreed without a moment of hesitation.

He brought take out from the Bento Box and had even stopped to pick up Japanese beers in large bottles. When he arrived at my apartment, he had changed his clothes and was wearing jeans and a button down. “Hey you,” I smiled and helped him with the bags. Sitting at my kitchen counter, we ate quickly, as if we were ravenous. We guzzled our beers like we were parched. Really, we wanted to get the formality of eating out of the way so our salty lips and spicy tongues could find each other in heated gasps as we wriggled out of our clothes and collapsed in my bed.

“I’ve been hard all afternoon,” he whispered. “Did you know it? I was sure somehow you could sense it all the way across town.” I ran my fingers through his hair and squeezed the flesh on the back of his neck.

“Must have been awfully _dissonant_ ,” I drawled and then whimpered as he went over my nipple with the flat of his teeth and sucked it into his mouth.

“Oh, you’re wicked,” he chuckled against my chest and I felt his voice echo in my rib cage. He licked beneath both of my breasts and bit into the soft tissue. The whole time I was wondering when and how he would enter me. It was a thrilling game every time we had sex, waiting for the moment when he’d sink into me, anticipating the sharp hiss or tortured moan of pleasure as he felt me clench my wet, silken muscles around him. I loved the sense of being pliant and posable for him, almost like a doll he could position and take in any manner he dreamed. Half my excitement came from bearing witness to him making fantasies reality. Despite numerous lovers before him, he made everything feel like it was my first time, like it was amazing and new. The simple act of him lifting one of my legs over his shoulders to sample a different angle or deeper join sent me spiraling into sensual spasms. His reactions, his noises, his wonder were tender and erotic.

Deciding he needed to taste me, he sank between my thighs and began lapping through my folds. His moans vibrated against me and it was all I could do not to clutch his head and ride his mouth hard and fast. He felt my urgency and teased his tongue back and forth, up and down over each side of the shaft around my clit. When I squealed impatiently, he chuckled and set to work on my bud which was so ready to burst. I was just about to explode when he stopped, climbed back up my body and thrust his cock deep into me, triggering an instant, shattering climax the very moment he entered me.

I swore and screeched and writhed against him as I came impossibly hard. “Oh, yeah, that’s it, Baby, come all over me,” he whispered in my ear as he found his rhythm and the hot buzz of his voice combined with his slow, deep strokes in and out, sent me tumbling into my next orgasm. In a surprisingly slick motion, he flipped us around, so I was on top and astride him. I arched my back, grinding my hips on him, still coming down from my second climax. He reached up for my breasts and fondled them as I rode him. At some point he sat up and wrapped his arms around me, still inside, and started talking to me again, “You fuck me so good, Baby. You feel so good around me. You’re gonna make me come so hard. Oh, fuck, fuck, yes, that’s it!” He pressed up into me and came then fell back on the bed, but I didn’t get off of him. I moved slowly on his still hard cock and pressed my clit intermittently until I had my third orgasm, and sat completely still on him so he could feel every pulsation on his overly sensitive member.

“You may have been hard all afternoon, but I’m gonna be wet all day tomorrow thinking about you talking to me like that,” I purred and stroked his chest.

“I don’t know what came over me,” he said. “It’s like I become someone else when you light up this fire in me. I don’t even know myself.”

“Well it’s sexy as fuck,” I said. “But only because I know how much you love me.”

“I do,” he said. “I really do, God help me.”

It was late and we were both well ridden and exhausted, but Gabe insisted he couldn’t stay the whole night. Suddenly, I felt clingy and kept hugging him at the door, trying to prolong our time little longer. “I just wish you would stay,” I sulked. He reminded me of our various obligations and that we shouldn’t lose sight of the fullness of the rest of our lives. “You sound like a fucking priest in a pulpit.”

“I am a priest,” he said. As if I had forgotten.

“For how much longer?” I asked, sounding petulant and even a little bratty. He looked at me as if he didn’t understand the question. “I mean, you told me when we got back from New Hampshire we’d figure things out.”

“And we are,” he said and pushed his glasses up.

“So this is it?”

“This is it for tonight. Lucy, I’m beat. I don’t have any other answers for you at the moment. I’m sorry, but that’s as honest as I can be.”

“It’s just there are these times I sort of feel a little strung along,” I ventured, dipping my toe into a pool in which I was terrified to swim.

“I don’t mean to make you feel that way.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “If this is getting to be too much for you, we can stop.”

My feet couldn’t feel the floor beneath them and my vision wavered. It was like my skeleton had been sucked out of my body and I was completely limp, weak, worthless. “Is that what you want?” I heard myself whisper.

“No. I think it would kill me. But if it’s what you need. . .” he cupped my elbow in his hand and squeezed a bit of warmth into me. I hadn’t realized I was cold, suddenly frigid.

“I don’t. I don’t,” I shook my head.

“Okay,” he said. “Come here,” he hugged me. He led me back to my bedroom and tucked me into bed. He kissed my forehead and my cheeks and my lips. I caught the faint tang of my own taste in his kiss. “I’ll lock up on my way out. You have sweet dreams, my love.”

I stayed in bed and listened to him leave. I stayed in bed and couldn’t sleep as I tried to make sense of the day, trying to track back to the point where I had stopped being confident and sassy and became sullen and needy. I laid awake half the night, too tired to cry, comforting myself with the thought he’d taste me on his tongue until morning came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiii. . . I apologize for the longer than average wait on this chapter... life has gotten rather hectic around these parts and my writing opportunities have been more erratic. I hopefully will have several updates for you over the next few days/week. . . Thanks for being patient!!! And please know all of your comments are incredibly motivating and inspiring for me! Whenever I start to doubt this story, I reflect on some of the amazing things you've shared and said and it gives me fuel for the next few pages. You're all so amazing!!! 
> 
> I hope you are all well out there in pandemic reality land. Check in and say hi in the comments if you feel so inclined. xoxoxo


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW in this chapter for mentions of drugs and drug overdose and more trauma reactive behavior.

My life began shrinking to fit Gabe. I rarely saw June, but I rationalized our lack of contact as my being busy with work and her being busy with her program and trying to seduce the star sculptor. I barely made it to lunch with the boys, which I justified as not having energy for their antics because I was trying so hard to play the part of a professional academic. I hadn’t been running in weeks and wrote it off as weather being uncooperative.

In truth, what began feeling balanced and realistic, began to feel like it was fueled with desperation and anxiety. But I wasn’t able to admit to the imbalance into which my life had suddenly fallen; I barely even saw it.

I checked my phone compulsively. I even positioned it in a spot while I facilitated my labs so I could glance at it to see if Gabe had messaged or called. My schedule revolved around when he could come over, visits for which I planned, cooked, cleaned, and prepared myself with utmost care. Meanwhile, I’d lapsed on a couple of the grants I was supposed to write and had to request extensions.

It was all so easy to gloss over by telling myself I’d never had this much professional responsibility before, that I was on a learning curve, that I would eventually catch up when I found my stride.

And it was simple to not give a single flying fuck about any of it when I was with Gabe. The world could have burned down and I would have barely even noticed while held in the honey of his gaze, or afloat in the seamless bubble of our sensuality. The strength of his embrace was fierce and protected me from anything I didn’t like or trust. I craved the pressure of its reassurance.

After his proclamation about cognitive dissonance and his question about our relationship being too much for me, I devoted myself twice as hard to playing it cool, stuffing down any doubts or insecurities, and acting the carefree lover and independent woman of the world who could take him or leave him. It reminded me of how people with substance use disorders talk about their addictions and relapse, how when they go into recovery, they are always preventing that next relapse. I didn’t want to relapse in any challenging behaviors that would open the door for Gabe to doubt my ability to handle our situation. Once again, I knuckled down and my new attitude seemed to reassure him. He relaxed a bit in my presence. Once again, we found equal footing that made me feel important and cherished by him.

“I never noticed how extroverted I have to be with everyone else,” he said in the dark one night. I asked what he meant and he sighed heavily. “It’s exhausting sometimes, you know, being in _that_ mode for hundreds of people all week long. Doling out pastoral care, hearing the inner most thoughts and fears people have, bearing witness to wrongs they inflict on one another. You wouldn’t believe it.”

“No, I probably wouldn’t,” I agreed.

“I shouldn’t complain. I love it, but sometimes it’s challenging. It’s such a complete commitment. It never occurred to me how precious little time I had in my life for anything or anyone outside of those doors. I supposed that’s by design,” he mused. “And I suppose fatigue is a small fine to pay for a taste of paradise.”

He was lying on his stomach with his head on his arm and I was rubbing his back. My fingers felt wonderfully hypnotized by the repetitive sensation of his skin passing beneath them. “I hope I’m not tiring you out.”

“Nope. That’s what I mean,” he clarified. “With you, I’m just a man. Even during our most passionate moments, I feel this stillness with you, like you’re the eye of my storm. It feels so simple and sweet. I don’t know if it’s heaven or hell, Daisy, but you make me feel real in a way I never knew before. Can you imagine that? I’ll be forty eight in a month and I’m just now learning what it means to live a real life?”

“Wow,” the thought of him being real with me and me alone was enormous, but I realized it was exactly how I felt.

“Wow what? You appalled I’m gonna be such an old man, you sweet, young flower?”

“Of course not, silly. I’m just glad I make you feel nice.” I pulled the comforter up over us. October brought chilly nights which necessitated we close windows and snuggle under extra blankets. “What are we going to do to celebrate your birthday, Mister?”

“Well,” he started slowly. “I don’t know. It’s right after Thanksgiving and our parish has a visit from the Bishop in December during Advent that I have to start planning for. So, I’ll probably skip the birthday festivities this year.”

“What? No!” I propped up on my elbow and looked down at him. “You can’t skip your birthday! I want to do something special with you.”

“Okay, well, how about we wait until your birthday in February and we do something special together?” I met his suggestion with a scowl. He rolled onto his back and looked up at me.

“Gabe. That is the worst idea I’ve ever heard. Why can’t we celebrate your birthday?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and moved his body on the mattress as if he couldn’t get comfortable. “Well, I have to go away to a liturgical conference in Missouri that week. And I’m flying directly from the conference to spend Thanksgiving with friends in Santa Fe.”

“What? You didn’t tell me,” I said, suddenly unable to feel the bed under my body or the blankets on top of me.

“I’m telling you now.”

“Santa Fe?” My brain slowly made sense of what he just said. “You’re going away for our first big holiday together? And for your birthday?”

“I mean, I’m spending my birthday, which has never been a big deal for me by the way, at a religious retreat that I’m obligated to go to for work. And the friends in Santa Fe are people I’ve spent Thanksgiving with for over a decade. They’re like family to me.”

The bones rushed back into my body. I sprang up in bed and knelt over him. “Right, family. Cool. So what does that make me?”

“Lucy,” he said in a warning tone as he put his hands behind his head. “Come on.”

“Come on?”

“Yeah, I mean, did you think we were spending Thanksgiving together?”

“I dunno, Gabe, apparently not, cuz obviously that would have been fucking insane of me, right?” I heard my voice but it sounded like it was coming from someone else. Weeks had passed without my getting upset by our uncommon arrangement, and I’d actually felt proud of my good behavior, proud I’d managed to be mature and accepting of his work constraints. For the most part, he’d been meeting my needs, or so I’d been telling myself, but this new revelation was more than I could comfortably bear.

“It’s not insane, Baby,” he stroked the inside of my arm.

“Then don’t go. Don’t go to the conference and don’t go to fucking Santa Fe! Stay here with me and be with me for the holiday.” My voice shook because my body shook. Gabe sat up.

“Lucia,” he started in that calm, kind tone and I knew where it was going. He sat up next to me.

“Don’t leave me, Gabe.”

“I’m not leaving you. I’m going away for a week. You’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Of course I know that. Come on, Baby, Lucia, come on.”

“You know what, don’t,” I snapped. I flopped down on the bed and turned my back to him. He sat there for a moment and then asked me if I wanted him to leave. “What? No! Now you’re going to leave me? What the fuck? You want to just leave me?” I buried my face in my hands and cried. “Of course you want to leave me.”

“I’m not going to leave you. I’m not going anywhere tonight if you don’t want me to, okay?” He curled his body against mine and held me. His arms were snug around me, and I let him hold me because it felt like the solid pressure of his body was the only thing keeping me tethered to my bed, keeping me from floating up and away into outer space where I would just freeze and suffocate. Eventually I slept. All night, I had the same dream, like it was running on a movie reel that just kept repeating itself. In it, I walked through a wooded area, trying to find a tree with a particular mark on it that would show me a trail head. I kept walking and couldn’t find the tree. There was nothing restful about my sleep that night.

The next morning, I was quiet. I woke in his arms and felt him- hard, pressing on my bare ass like he wanted me. I didn’t respond. In fact, I pretended I was still asleep and eventually he got up and headed to the bathroom. I didn’t join him in the shower. I threw on my robe, used the half bath to pee and hoped that when I flushed it sent a torrent of icy water over his shoulders. It was petty of me, but I felt fussy and small. Neglecting to brush my teeth, I strutted to the kitchen, made coffee. He met me over the counter after he dressed and I handed him a cup of coffee. I was still in my robe, hair messy from sleep around my face. He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear and tried to kiss my forehead but I moved away from him.

“You gonna do this? You putting up the fortress around you so we can’t even talk or touch?” He asked. His voice sounded wretched.

“Sleep okay?” I asked and rolled my eyes as if conceding to his request for conversation.

“Frankly, no, I didn’t,” he said. “Look, Lucy, I actually feel like we should talk about what came up last night, about holidays and about the way our relationship is, or has to be.”

“You made yourself pretty clear last night. And I don’t actually seem to have a voice in the matter so it doesn’t really seem to me there is anything to talk about, actually.” I sniped. I blew on my coffee and climbed onto a stool at my counter.

“You know you can be impossible sometimes?”

"Thought I was the eye of your storm? Your moment of calm? But apparently I'm not good enough to have holidays with."

"Honestly, you've gone from being the eye to being the storm," Gabe said. "And sometimes it feels impossible to keep up with you." 

“I’m impossible? It’s this relationship that’s impossible,” I muttered. “You aren’t my boyfriend. We can’t spend holidays together. I can’t even celebrate your birthday with you. What the fuck is that, Gabe?”

“I don’t know, Lucy. It’s hard and I’m sorry it’s hard for you, but we never talked about holidays. Realistically, how would that even work? You bring me home to meet your parents for Thanksgiving? And what do they think about your man who’s 25 years older than you?”

“Lot of assumptions in that statement right there, Gabriel.” I set my mug down roughly on the counter and coffee sloshed over my hand, onto the tile surface. I wiped my hand on my robe.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I don’t spend holidays with family. I don’t have any family.”

“What?” He shook his head and looked completely baffled.

“I told you my grandma died a few years ago.”

“What about your parents?”

“My father is dead and the human incubator who birthed me is lost on an ashram in India or something. I was an unplanned, only child, no siblings. So, yeah. No family.”

He took a step toward me. “You never told me that.”

“I never told you because you were too busy fucking my brains out to ever ask, and I don’t typically offer up the information that dear old dad overdosed when I was four years old and my mom couldn’t be bothered to stick around and raise me so she pissed off to find herself or some stupid new age, eat, pray, love bullshit.”

“Is that true, about your dad?”

“Is it true? Like I’d fucking lie about that? Yeah it’s true. I slipped on his puke and found him one morning as I was walking to the bathroom. Asphyxiated on his own sick while unconscious. Was fucking blue, ice cold like a cartoon. At four years old I didn’t know the word asphyxiated, but I knew what an icy blue cartoon looked like. So, yeah. It’s absolutely true.”

He sucked his breath in and pushed his glasses up on his nose, then he put a hand on my arm. “Well it explains a lot,” he exhaled.

“The fuck’s that mean?” I hissed and sprang out of my seat. I shoved his hand from my arm.

“Lucy, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just-“

“Oh, no, I think you meant it exactly like that. Like you now know the secret to why I’m such a fucked up horror story with such dramatic daddy issues I’d be fucking someone more than twice my age!” The pain I inflicted was instant and severe. He took a step back from me, his mouth partially open, and then he turned and walked to the bedroom. I cursed under my breath and followed him. He was already packing his things. “Gabe, I didn’t mean that.”

“I am certain you did,” he said softly.

“But I didn’t mean it like that, Gabe, please!”

“You did,” he nodded, bit his lower lip, and resumed packing.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” He tucked a pair of socks into his bag and zipped it.

“Please don’t go. Please don’t go,” I babbled.

“Lucy.” His fingers lightly clasped the handles of his bag. His voice was low and he spoke slowly. “We’ve been doing this for weeks now. It’s been hard for both of us, and it’s tiring and confusing. I think we both could use a time out. Let’s regroup. Settle down in our own spaces.”

“No,” I wept. My heart raced. I was in a room I’d inhabited thousands of times but it wavered before me with menacing unfamiliarity. “Nonono. Don’t leave. Don’t leave me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said, Gabe. I love you. Please, Gabe, please!” I grabbed the bag out of his hands and threw it on to the other side of the room. Standing on my tip toes, I grabbed his face and tried to make his mouth meet mine. He resisted. I clung to him and kissed his ears and bit his neck.

“Stop,” he said but my mouth kept searching for his. I grabbed his hand and put it on my breast. “Lucy, stop it. Damnit I said stop!” He grabbed my wrists and held them tight, held me away from him and glowered at me so intensely my legs went weak under me. My face twisted with what I was sure was an ugly sob and I started to crumple in on myself. “Damnit!” Gabe swore again and pulled me into him and his mouth was sucking my lips, his tongue instantly tangling with mine. He inadvertently bit the side of my mouth as we furiously grabbed at one another, trying for all our might to get closer. He untied my robe and his hands were everywhere at once on my naked body beneath. It seemed cruel we had to part even long enough for me to tear his shirt off, to strip him of his pants, to chuck his glasses onto the dresser. The whole time I was crying, tears streaming in hot rivers down my cheeks. Suddenly, Gabe stopped. He held my face in both his hands and examined me closely. It was then I noticed he was crying too. His beautiful sad eyes were red rimmed and moist and making wet patches in his beard. I cupped his jaw in my hands and convulsed in tears. “Lucia, don’t cry,” he said and his whole body shivered with the effort it took him to still his own grief.

“Please,” I begged, even though I didn’t know for what. “Please, please.”

“Yes,” he said and angled my face so he could lick the tears off my cheek. When he kissed me again, his lips and tongue were salty. We fell onto the bed and his body covered mine. For a moment, I had the sense I was drowning in him and I couldn’t breathe and I didn’t care. I closed my eyes and clung to him and I wasn’t scared at all. “Open your eyes, Baby,” he whispered and I complied obediently, finding my breath and the rich, sodden earth of his eyes right above me. “Is it okay?”

“Yes,” I opened my thighs so his body slipped down between them.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of the situation here.” He was already angled and pressing at my opening. I felt how challenging it was for him to resist simply taking me.

“I need you.”

He nodded, “I need you too.” He entered me and I wrapped my body around him entirely. I didn’t even want to come, but within moments, my body was working up to the pinnacle. He wasn’t doing anything fancy or fast; he was just fucking me slow and close and holding my body so tight I could barely breathe. “Look at me, look at me,” he said. His forehead was pressed on mine, his eyes an entire galaxy, shimmering and huge. I bit his lower lip and pressed my nails into his back with the effort it took to keep my eyes open. “Can you come?” He whispered hoarsely and I could feel him holding back, waiting for me. I nodded. “Come with me. Do it. Right now, Baby.” I stuck my tongue in his mouth and he sucked on it, but my eyes were open the whole time as we came together, sharing the exact same grief soaked sensation.

He stayed in me for as long as he could after, until he softened and slipped out. Even then, he still held me. Somehow I managed to stop crying. “Gabe I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

“Yes,” he said. “I forgive you anything.”

“I’m so scared sometimes.” My voice was small.

“I know.”

“This is hell.”

“I know.”

“But I don’t want to be without you, Gabe,” I sniffled.

“Me either,” he said with the saddest sigh I’d ever heard. It was Tuesday and we both had busy weeks. Saturday afternoon was the trip to the aquarium with the youth group. “You’ll meet us there, right?” He asked. He moved away from me and started getting dressed. I told him I would. “I just want to take the next few days to clear my mind a bit. It’s not a bad thing. It’ll make me better to be around. I’m juggling a lot and I just need a little time. Can you let me do that, Lucia?” He picked up my hand and looked at my fingers, traced the whorls of my thumb with his index finger.

“Do you hate me? I promise I didn’t mean what I said. I just don’t like talking about my dad and I didn’t like the idea of you thinking it made me make sense.”

“Lucia, I could never hate you in a million years. Can you just trust that?”

Tears streamed down my face, but I nodded.

I didn’t hear from him for the rest of that day or the next. It surprised me. Part of me believed he’d go a few hours without talking to me and would be texting or calling before we even got to Thursday. I wanted to respect his space, but I was sad, confused, and felt locked out of his life in some strange isolation chamber that looked nothing like the world I knew. On Friday morning, I texted him a photo of a daisy I’d taken over the summer. I didn’t write anything. And he didn’t text back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys still with me? Ok, everyone remember to breathe. . . it's all part of the process here... xoxoxo.
> 
> PS. if you haven't checked it out, I posted a playlist of songs that have shaped and inspired this story. I'm a complete music addict, and music heavily influences my writing at almost all times. You might enjoy it, and I'd also love to hear if there are songs on the list you know and love, or if there are songs you would add! I really like hearing about the internal process of people as they are sharing a story space with me. Love you guys to the moon and back!!!


	34. Chapter 34

Our upcoming trip with the church youth filled me with both apprehension and hope. As much as I looked forward to seeing Gabe again, even in his formal role and with an impossible chasm of propriety between us, I was terrified his feelings had shifted over the course of our time out. What if he had considered everything- my fucked up family history, my enormous emotions, and my slicing semantics- and decided I was not worth what he was risking? Perhaps he’d seen enough to finally know I could not be loved. From my side of the invisible wall between us, it seemed inevitable he’d feel anything besides apprehension and hostility toward me. It had only been several days, but the radio silence devastated me, convinced me of monstrous things about myself. He’d asked me to trust in what he felt for me, but space chiseled holes of doubt. How had it only been two, three, four days since he made love to me, convinced me to inhabit his eye space as I’d never done with anyone before, as he explored the depths of me, claimed each inch of me in his name, in his image?

I was his. Entirely. He had my heart.

What did I have?

Walking through the world stopped making sense. I was like a puppet, going through motions, doing all the things that were expected, but with no real connection or intent.

At one point during the week, I managed to swallow my pride and call June. She gave me a good natured tongue thrashing about how I only called her when Father McHotty Pants wasn’t boning me. “Hello? Are you there?” She asked. “You’re not even gonna cuss me out for calling him Father McHuge Boner? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s with all the Mc’s? I don’t think he’s even Scottish.” I evaded her query completely by focusing instead on her humor.

“Dude, that would be Mac. Like Father Mac Dreamy Fuck,” June attempted to clarify in a very fake brogue. “Mc is Irish and I’m pretty sure it’s a prerequisite of being a good Catholic to be Irish.”

This made me laugh for the first time all week. Like I actually snorted, then said, “What the hell do you know about it?” June’s family was of Ashkenazi Jewish descent, about which they took a deep, cultural pride, although they practiced the religious component of Judaism very loosely. As an unofficial member of her family, I’d been to many a Passover Seder and learned how to make latkes on the eighth night of Hanukkah.

“Come on, Lube. You know I’ve always had the hots for Jesus. And that, my friend, is a prerequisite of being a good Jewish girl.”

“I’m almost positive that isn’t true,” I laughed happy we had changed the subject, and for once I didn’t yell at her for calling me Lube, which was my least favorite of her many nicknames for me. It didn’t last long, however. She steered the conversation back and onto a more serious track. “Really though, Lula, what are you going to do. You think maybe it’s time to call this thing quits? Find a nice goyish boy and settle down in the suburbs with a labradoodle? Who’s that cutie you work with? Tim? He looks like a dog person.”

“Ugh, Tim is so not my type. He’s a good friend; that’s all.”

“Right, cuz your type entails at least 32 flavors of angsty self flagellation. Doesn’t it get old?”

“I don’t know if I can call it quits with Gabe, June,” I sighed heavily as I lit a cigarette. Gabe wasn’t around to see me smoking or to worry about the smell of smoke in my apartment, so I lit up right in my living room. It was raining outside and I didn’t feel like sitting on the deck. While he’d never expressly voiced his disdain for my smoking, either of cigarettes or pot, I could tell by the way his mouth tensed he didn’t like it. I sucked hard on the cigarette and blew the smoke up at the ceiling. I watched the bluish white haze lift and dissipate. Against my better judgement I told her about the argument we had regarding the holidays. “But, I mean, I don’t know if I would call that self flagellation. It was just a miscommunication, I think."

“First of all, if you ditched me on Thanksgiving I’d have to cut you,” June said. “And second, it is self destructive as all fucking get out. And third, knowing what you know about this dude, what did you realistically expect from him, Lulee? I mean he’s basically a married man and so he’s gonna have to spend his holidays with his spouse, who in this case happens to be Jesus.”

“I don’t know what I expected,” I answered honestly. I’d been so busy white knuckling my good behavior and trying not to betray a single need in front of Gabe that I’d barely given a thought to my expectations. I’d also been totally focused on how it felt in the moment with Gabe, the day to day bliss of pretending we had a domestic partnership that apparently didn’t really exist. It brought me back to questioning the exact nature of our relationship. Because it wasn’t nothing. There was no way we could invade one another the way we did emotionally and physically and have it be nothing.

“Does it make him bisexual if he’s married to Jesus?” June wondered.

“Again, I’m pretty sure that is not a ‘thing,’ other than in your weird head,” I tried to chuckle.

“Shame, cuz that would actually be sort of hot. Like that fantasy could get me there,” June sighed and sounded legitimately disappointed. I begged her to come to the aquarium with me as a buffer. “As much as I’d like to be a wingman for you and the priest, I have to decline on the grounds I have a previous engagement.” She was having coffee with Claudia. I was happy for her. Even though there was an expiration date on her relationship with the statuesque Aussie artist who would go home at the end of the year, June was in her glory. I gladly shifted the conversation to listen to her list all of Claudia’s amazing qualities. “Honestly, she’s like if Cate Blanchette, Gillian Anderson, Uma Thurman, and Amanda Palmer all got together in an orgy and conceived one tremendously tall, noisy, gorgeous love child,” June bragged. I didn’t bother to even ask how the science behind a four woman, no man love chid would work. June’s happiness was almost contagious enough to light a little spark in me.

Saturday came exceptionally fast, since I still didn’t feel prepared for what I would do or say when I saw Gabe. I drove by myself, and by the time I arrived at the aquarium, my chest felt heavy and thick. All the minutes of our separation had piled up inside me and accumulated like a leaden shield. If pushed into the water, I’d have sank like dead weight. At least I looked good in a pair of tight, black pants and a fuzzy gray sweater that wrapped around my body and tied in a bow at my hip. I’d done my hair the way I typically do it for work, in a loose braid, and I’d applied enough makeup to color my cheeks and gloss my lips. Tim met me at the gate before the group arrived, and I tried not to let my nerves betray me. He noted I looked fancy for a Saturday afternoon. I considered a response, but then a pack of about fifteen teenagers approached us with a couple adult chaperones, and of course, Gabe. My heart rate accelerated. I stuffed my hands into my pockets so no one would see them shake.

We got the kids through the gates and Tim and I introduced ourselves. We gave them the lay of the land and explained the ground rules. Basically, they were allowed free range of the facilities for an hour, and we would meet for the seal show at the aquatic amphitheater after that. “Miss Lucy here is going to do a super cool puffer fish demonstration for us in about twenty minutes, so make sure to find the puffer tank cuz you’re not gonna want to miss that!” Tim said and winked at me.

“Oh, am I?” I grinned, playing the part of energetic docent.

“Sure, he said. You up for it?”

“I was born up for it,” I said.

“Well why not then? As long as you’re not worried about getting that pretty sweater damp.”

“Course not,” I said, feeling a bit foolish after all that I’d gotten so dolled up. After the kids were off and running, I introduced Tim to Gabe.

“St. Peters, huh?” Tim said thoughtfully. “You know I grew up in that parish and my parents still attend mass every week.”

“Is that right?” Gabe said in a good natured, friendly manner. He asked their names.

“Wendy and Paul Wilson.” Tim said.

“Ah, of course. They’re a lovely couple. Wonderful volunteers at the food pantry and in the soup kitchen.” Gabe extolled the virtues of Tim’s parents.

 _I bet they’re such an amazing family that also own a labradoodle,_ I thought sardonically. _Talk about worlds colliding._ Gabe smiled so his eyes crinkled. I was so busy trying to count all the little lines at his temple, next to the stem of his glasses, that I almost didn’t hear him comment that he never saw Tim at mass.

“Aw, Father. I’m afraid I’m sort of like Luce, here,” Tim said. The way he bowed his head and smiled made him look respectful, contrite. “I’m just not a believer anymore. But I think you baptized my sister’s kids. All four of them!”

“What’s her name?” Gabe asked and I was confused by how completely enraptured he appeared by this conversation.

“Karen Slade,” Tim said.

“Oh my heavens,” Gabe brought his hands together in what could have been a clap but ended up quiet and having more of a prayerful appearance. “The Slade babies! Little angels all of them! I wasn’t there for Gracie, but I definitely dunked Emma, Sophia, and Stella. Do you know that tiny Stella didn’t even make a peep? Just looked at me with those big eyes the whole time.”

“Yeah, Stella is a bit of a fairy child, or at least that’s what I think. Don’t tell anyone, but she’s my favorite.” Tim was smiling and nodding as he offered up these personal details in a manner I found inexplicably perplexing.

I watched the interaction between Gabe and Tim play out and wandered off while they continued their congenial conversation. There was no way Gabe and I would be able to have any meaningful discourse with Tim lurking around us, so I gave it up for the time being. I walked away analyzing whether or not Gabe had looked at me in a way that connoted he still cared for me, if he thought I looked pretty, if he even wanted to share a word more than the super formal greeting we had. I didn’t have any answers, and thankfully, I was distracted by a number of tasks at hand. Knowing I’d be getting wet up to my elbows during the puffer fish demo, I checked my coat and bag, just to get rid of them. Then I headed to one of the touch tanks where a group of teens debated whether or not they should pet a small shark.

“It’s okay,” I said and pushed my sleeves up past my elbows. Dunking my hand gently into the water, I stroked the back of the little shark who wiggled away, only to swim back around. “Use your fingertips, like this, and lightly stroke their back,” I explained to the kids. “They won’t bite you. This little nurse shark is a baby, and completely harmless.”

One of the girls looked me up and down. She had jet black hair cut into an angular style with a thick layer of bangs across her forehead. Something about her reminded me of June. “I’m Tyler,” she said.

“Hey, Tyler. I’m Lucy,” I said even though I’d already introduced myself to all the kids at the front gate. I plunged my hand back into the pool of water and picked up an urchin which I held on the surface of the water. “You wanna touch or hold this guy? He feels sort of prickly.”

“Hah, just like me,” Tyler reached out her hand. Her nails were painted with chipped, black polish. She tentatively touched the little animal I held in the water. “So, like, you’re really a marine biologist? Cuz Father Gabe says you’re a marine biologist.”

“Ah, well, Father Gabe is generous,” I said, noticing how my throat clenched on his name. “I’m studying to be a marine biologist. I’m in my post grad program. That means I’ve done a lot of school and I’m going to do a lot more school and in between I do awesome things like teach classes and study interesting creatures.” Tyler declared that this was hella cool and pet the shark next time it swam past us. A couple of the boys hooted in admiration. “Congratulations, Tyler. You just earned yourself the title of being my assistant for the puffer fish demonstration. You game?” She nodded enthusiastically. I showed her to the tank with its yellowish, spiky inhabitant and told her where to stand.

Tim had the rest of the group gather around as I gave a little talk about predators in the wild and how different species adapt ways to defend themselves. The sweet little puffer had evolved to swell up three times its size by sucking water into a pouch under its belly, both to intimidate predators and to avoid getting swallowed whole.

“Most ocean animals eat their meal in one bite,” I explained to the kids as I stuck a net into the tank to gently snag a puffer who began to inflate himself the instant he was caught. “So it comes in pretty handy if you can make yourself too big to be swallowed whole, so you’re spit out.” I scooped the puffer out of the tank and held him in my hands on his back for the kids to see. The white belly extended wide in the air. We briefly talked about the difference in the animal’s appearance and how it’s distention made its spikes even more prominent. “Okay, ready Tyler?” I asked and she stepped closer to me. “Now, you in the front row, look out because you might get wet and possibly soaked!” I grinned mischievously at them and they all backed up a step. Tyler followed my instructions as I turned the fish over and she reached under it, to tickle its belly. Within seconds, the fish was spitting its pouch full of water out at the squealing teenagers. I quickly plopped the little guy back into his tank, and he swam happily away from me. The kids clapped and I gave a little bow prior to finding the ladies room so I could wash and dry my hands.

When I emerged from the restroom, I wandered over to take a look at Luke from the visitor’s side. His tank was in a darkened wing, sectioned off from the larger hall of the aquarium by a series of tunnel like walls and borders. I put my fingertips on his tank, near where he’d curled up, his suckers gently pulsating in the current of his water. He appeared to wave a tentacle at me as he wrapped it around his body and I could practically feel the pull of his suction cups on my skin. It was as if he knew I was there. I stood admiring him for an indeterminate period of time, lost in the beauty of his chaotically arranged body which seemed constantly moving and perfectly still all at once.

“So, is this my competition,” Gabe materialized at my side. He stood close enough so I could smell the spicy blend of cedar and amber and whatever else constituted his cologne.

“Mmmh hmmm,” I smiled. “This is Luke. Octopus Jedi.”

“He’s pretty great,” Gabe agreed. There was no one else in our immediate vicinity.

“I miss you,” I whispered and stole a sideways glance at him.

“Me too,” he sighed and my belly flipped. I swallowed trying to make some moisture in my mouth so I could manage talking.

“Are you still mad?”

“Lucia,” he said softly. He looked forward at the tank, at Luke who seemed to be curling tighter into himself. Gabe’s hands were stuffed deep in the pockets of the woolen black suit jacket he wore over his black shirt which was tucked into black pants. The white of his collar sliced through the black like a scar. “I was never mad. We were both hurt. It happens.”

“Oh so now you’re an expert on relationships?” I teased.

He smiled sadly. “Expert, no. But I’ve counseled enough couples to know the dynamics. Or some of them anyway. You certainly manage to throw me for a loop at times.”

“Do you still love me?” I looked at Luke as I whispered my question through my dry lips, trying to pretend I wasn’t even asking it.

“More than ever,” he grumbled and his fingers found mine in the shadows at our sides. Some kids came bounding down the hallway and we jerked away from one another, smiling and rolling our eyes. We walked into a hall where a series of different jellyfish were displayed in clear floor to ceiling cylindrical tanks. Pretending to examine them, we worked our way through the exhibit, trying to communicate.

“Can I see you again?” I asked, staring straight ahead at a red and purple jellyfish trailing a tangled mess of poisonous tentacles.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Soon,” he said. “I can’t bear it not seeing you.”

“You didn’t call though. You didn’t even text me back.” My incredulity made me raise my voice slightly, made me turn to him.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know if you’d want me anymore. I’m old and largely unavailable right now. I don’t blame you for being frustrated. Part of me thought I’d get here today and find out you’d hooked up with Tim and were living happily ever after.”

I pushed him a little on his arm. “How could you think that?” I asked. He turned and looked at me, really looked at me for the first time that day. He was about to say something when Tyler and a couple of her cohorts came up and greeted us.

“Father Gabe, I pet a shark!” Tyler announced and looked proudly at me.

“She did,” I nodded. “She was by far the bravest.”

“That’s fantastic, Tyler,” Gabe looked genuinely pleased with his young charge. “Well done!” I’d never had anyone look at me that way. He regarded her with completely honest and innocent pride and joy. It took my breath away. I basked in the exchange. “You know, Lucy here could tell you all about octopuses,” Gabe added and Tyler looked up at me, doe eyed and reverent.

I could have cried. Just as no one had looked at me as Gabe did Tyler, no one had looked at me with the trust and enthusiasm that Tyler did just then, not even my undergrad students. It was a look of such delighted anticipation, a look I am quite sure I’d lavished upon many a babysitter, teacher, or professor in my time. Beaming, I brought Tyler to see Luke, and told her how octopuses could not just feel you, but taste you and know your secrets through the magic of their tentacles. Rapt, she soaked up every word. I adored the juxtaposition of her edgy appearance and her tender response to positive attention. Placing a reassuring pat on her shoulder when she got a question right, I wondered what it would be like if she was my daughter. I wondered what if she was mine and Gabe’s.

Of course it didn’t make sense. I was too young to be the mother of a 14 year old. Still, a seed had been planted in my imagination, a glimpse into a future where I was able to bear a child with a loving, encouraging partner parent at my side.

In a split second, I was able to imagine an older version of myself, reading in bed next to Gabe at the end of a day. Our teenager came in to say goodnight, or maybe even to talk to us about a problem she had during her day at school. We lowered our books into our laps to listen to everything she had to say. Together, we helped her sort through the tricky spots of her issue and when she felt better, she smiled and put her hands in her lap in a relaxed and resolved way. She climbed between us for a moment and kissed us both on the cheeks prior to hopping off our bed and scurrying to her pink or purple or orange bedroom.

In the next second, I was back in the dimly lit aquarium, corralling teenagers toward the seal show. It made less than no sense, and yet, my fingers could not shake the feeling of Tyler’s bony shoulder beneath my encouraging hand.

On the way to the seal performance, Gabe and I hung back to make sure all the kids were accounted for. In a crevice near the electric eel and barracuda, Gabe pressed against me and whispered, “I love watching you work. You’re absolutely amazing.”

“I’m hardly doing what I’d call work here, Mister,” I demurred.

“You’ve managed to inspire all the girls and enchant all the boys. They’re a tough crowd; that’s no small feat!”

“And you?” I looked around prior to lightly touching his hip. “How have I moved you?”

“I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you the entire time. You’re luminous. You blind me.”

“Big words, those,” I teased. “Sounds almost as though you’ve found a false idol. Whatever will your god think?”

He leaned in, close enough so I felt his beard graze my cheek, and the heat of his breath in my ear as he whispered, “I don’t want my God if it means I can’t worship you.”

Speechless, I gazed up at him and my pinky finger hooked into his pinky finger, like seahorses link tails together so they don’t get lost in the sea. But when I tore my sight away from the man I loved, I saw Tim had approached, and looked at us, a curious expression on his face. While it wasn’t clear exactly what he’d seen, it was clear he’d seen enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am LIVING for the deep and insightful comments you beautiful people are offering me. I really wanted this story to be more than just an erotic romp, although the erotic romping is a major component. . . and it is such a gift that you are totally sinking your teeth in and allowing this little story to breathe in some ways that are so real and that I never expected. It has given me so much to think about in terms of relationships and human connection and the meaning our own experiences bring to something. . . especially in comments about the "healthiness" or viability of Gabe and Lucy's relationship. It fascinates me. And honestly, there are no wrong or right answers here. It isn't a test and there are no trick questions!! I'm just loving you all so so much and am so immensely filled with gratitude and joy for what YOU have brought to this story. 
> 
> It was a tough summer, and fall does not look like it will be much better. Having this space to share with you has been such a surprising treat. I honestly did not expect anyone to read an original piece, but I was determined to write it just for me as an outlet for some stress, an escape of sorts, but also because this story has been begging to be told for years. The fact that you've taken time out of your lives to connect with me, and more importantly with my characters, is monumental. Thank you. Thank you.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are just a few words, because I couldn't leave you with that little cliffhanger for too long!!!

Tim and I had dinner at the little Mexican place in the village. We sat at the bar, did a couple shots of tequila, and ordered icy beers to accompany spicy nachos and tacos. 

“So, Luce. What’s up with you and the priest,” Tim asked. I blinked and smiled at him as if I misunderstood his question. He stared back at me. 

“Father Gabe?” I asked back. 

“Uh, yeah, unless there was a different priest you were canoodling with today.”

“Oh my gosh, Tim,” I gasped. It seemed the tequila on my breath could have set the little votive before us ablaze like a torch, but it didn’t. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you two looked pretty cozy. I mean, I thought it was strange you of all people would want to sponsor a church trip, but then I saw you with him and I had to wonder.. .” 

“Bro,” I insisted. “I don’t know what you thought you saw, but Gabe, um, Father Gideon, and I are just friendly. We barely know each other. This trip was a civic duty. And I got to show off with the puffer fish, thanks to you, so please don’t over think it.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Tim said. He chewed a bite of taco thoughtfully and I prayed he’d let it go. “It’s just. . . how did you two meet anyway?”

“We met at a poetry reading in the spring,” I recycled the lie I’d originally told June. It was so convincing, I almost believed it at this point. 

“So he’s a poet?”

“No. Um, not exactly. He just takes an interest.” I crunched a chip and upped the ante, “He’s a nice guy. Almost like a father or uncle figure in my life. A mature, male role model. You know how I’m lacking in those. That’s all you saw, avuncular affection.” I didn’t know which was worse- referring to Gabe as a father figure, or gaslighting Tim. 

“Sure, yeah. I also know how older men can be super pervy toward beautiful younger women if given half a chance. I’m just looking out for you.”

“Thanks, Tim, I appreciate it. Really. But Gabe is not a perv. He’s kind and respectful. Anyway, when do you think we are gonna hear about that grant? It feels like its been a really long time,” I prayed my subject shift would work. 

“Gosh, I don’t know, but it should be soon. I should email them on Monday. Thanks for reminding me.” 

“No prob,” I smiled, and silently heaved a sigh of relief. As lying grew easier for me, keeping secrets was growing much harder. I took a deep swig of my beer and Tim mentioned I’d barely eaten any of my meal. I shrugged and said I’d had a big lunch. Another lie. Truth was, my stomach churned with guilt. I finished my beer, but I could hardly take another bite. 

When we’d realized Tim was standing there, Gabe and I had stepped away from one another with a deliberate slowness and lingering glance. His eyes seemed to warn as mine attempted to reassure, and then we both walked away and pretended our clandestine moment had never happened. I walked right past Tim with a little smile and I could tell he was questioning if he’d even seen what he thought he had seen. The dinner I was currently sharing with him was as much about damage control as it was about spending time with a friend. Evidently, Tim was not buying my song and dance, but it didn’t really matter as long as whatever he’d imagined stayed with him. I knew Tim well enough to know he wasn’t a gossip. It didn’t seem I’d have to worry about him calling up his sister and conveying to her that he’d seen the priest who’d baptized three out of four of her kids holding hands with some girl half his age in an aquarium. 

Fuck, when I thought of it that way. . . I had to stop and wonder what the hell I was doing. And maybe that’s what I should have been thinking during those four days of pining for Gabe, but it was only just occurring to me that the amazing sense of love and belonging I experienced in his arms was something else altogether. It was a whale of a thought and it didn’t fit in my brain. It seemed almost cruel to try to contain it in such a small space, so I set it free and tried not to follow it as it swam away over the strings of brightly colored lights above the bar. 

“Luce?” Tim touched my arm lightly. “You in there?”

“Yeah, sorry. I just spaced out for a minute. It’s been such a crazy semester, and I haven’t been sleeping that great. I think I’m just tired.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. I did suddenly feel tired. Maybe it was the tequila, or maybe it was the emotional roller coaster of the week I’d had, but I was completely exhausted. Tim walked me to my car and we hugged. 

“Just be careful, okay? I’m not trying to be a dick or bossy. I just care about you and don’t wanna see you get hurt. That’s all,” he shrugged. 

“Tim, it’s all good. You don’t have to worry,” I smiled, uncertain whether I was trying to make him or me believe it. 

“Cool. Cuz I’d rather not have to throw down with a man of the cloth. But I will if need be,” he grinned and winked at me. I laughed. 

“You know, you really are a sweetie,” I said and that was a truth I didn’t have to work at believing even for a second.

“Ah, if only that were enough, right?” He kissed my cheek and walked to his car. And with that, I had all the assurance I needed that Tim would not tell a soul about me and Gabe, because I knew he’d never do anything to hurt me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm loving everyone's mixed reactions to all of my characters. Wow!! I didn't know I was capable of stirring up such emotions! Thank you all so much for continuing to read this monster and for all of your support. xoxoxoxoxo.


	36. Chapter 36

Our reunion took place the next evening, after Gabe finished his priestly duties. 

“We should talk, really talk, I think, before we jump right back into this thing,” he said over the phone Saturday night. I’d called him after I got home from dinner with Tim to reassure him he’d nothing to worry about, that regardless of what Tim knew, or thought he knew, he wouldn’t say anything to anyone. I agreed with Gabe regarding the talk. I was desperate to ask him what he meant when he said he didn’t want god if he couldn’t worship me. His words buzzed in my brain like a hive thick with bees at work. I’d started and deleted about a half dozen texts asking him that very question, but in the end, I decided it would be better saved for our in person conversation. 

He suggested we meet at a restaurant a couple towns over and have dinner. It was a solid plan; I think we both knew if he just came to my apartment, our conversation would happen between the sheets, and little would be resolved other than a temporary satisfying of our rampant libidos. I tried not to be overly fastidious about my appearance, since the restaurant we picked was a casual bistro. I wore jeans and a tight, low cut, black sweater that felt sexy and elegant while still informal. He arrived in a pair of gray pants and a burgundy sweater. It occurred to me I’d never seen him in a sweater before, and when I greeted him with a hug, I gathered some of the material in my fingers, feeling the weight and weft of it, noting how it fit his body over a crew neck tee shirt. 

“This new?” I asked him, with a little tug on his sleeve as we were seated. 

“I ordered a few things. It’s from Edie Bauer. I’m still trying to figure out what I like, or if I have a style of my own if I’m not in uniform. What do you think? You like?” 

“It looks nice on you, yeah,” I said. 

“You look. . . ravishing,” he sighed and took my hand. “Every time I see you, it’s like I’m seeing you for the first time. I go a while without looking at you, and I begin to think I’ve imagined how beautiful you are, that you can’t possibly be real, and then I see you again and. . . my god, you’re even more exquisite than I even remembered. How do you do that?”

“Gabe,” I smiled and stroked the side of his face where his beard shimmered with silver. He turned his mouth into my hand and kissed my palm. “Thank you.” I didn’t know what else to say. We ordered wine and food and sat with one another in peaceful quiet. It felt like neither of us wanted to break the bubble of our truce with the scheduled conversation. Or, neither of us knew how. Eventually, after a glass of wine, I asked, “So, was your time out helpful for you, because to be perfectly honest it was completely miserable for me.” 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lucy.” 

“You are?” I set my fork down, or rather dropped it on my plate with a clatter. I didn’t know what was coming next. 

“I am. I hope you can forgive me. That scene, that situation last week, that was a mess. It was a mess of my making and I see how hurtful I was, not talking to you about things, important things sooner because I was selfish. Not asking questions because I was blind by desire. Being apart from you was like a self inflicted wound. I don’t know, maybe I walked away because I wanted to punish myself.”

“But you punished me too in the process,” I added quickly. 

“I know. It was wrong. I felt the wrongness of it every second. I was so twisted up, sick with longing. I haven’t cried since I was a very young priest, and this past week I think I cried daily.”

“Because of me?”  
“No. No. Because of me. Because of my foolishness. Because I knew you were hurting and I didn’t know how or what to do.”

“But I don’t understand that, Gabe. You’re a priest. You know how to deal with and care for people all day long. It’s your job.”

“True. But all those people I’m dealing with don’t have an intimate connection with me, Lucy. It’s different with you. You’re not my job. You’re something else entirely, and I don’t always know how to manage myself in relation with you. I should, but I don’t.”

“Well, I did push you away. I’m ridiculously good at that.”

“It doesn’t matter! I should have pulled you closer. I should have been there in every way a man possibly should be to support his woman, and yet I couldn’t. I didn’t even know where to begin. I was lost. I didn’t even know I could be so lost.” He shook his head, pushed his glasses up on his nose and smiled sadly at me. 

“It sounds like your week was even worse than mine,” I observed.

“You must think I’m pathetic.”

“Of course not,” I said and put my hand over his on the table. I took a swallow of my wine. “But I’m confused still, I guess.” 

“It’s understandable. I’m confused too,” his voice was quiet and stable. It reminded me of his voice in the confessional. But then he seemed gripped by a flurry of emotion as he kissed my fingers and said how awful it was, how much he missed me. He leaned in closer to me and said, “It was only four days but it felt like years. All I did was drown in thoughts of you. My chest would get so tight I couldn’t breathe and then I’d think I had to run to you. Just pack a bag and get you, and go.” My eyes must have widened as he spoke. He asked if it scared me to hear him say such things. I shook my head. He scoffed at himself and said it terrified him, then added, “Not that I’d ever be so selfish to tear you away from your life here. I wouldn’t do that to you. It was just a day dream.”

“Where would you take me? Where would we go?” I asked. 

“I thought about France. I thought you could study in the place where Jaques Cousteau lived and we could walk on cobble stones and eat bread and cheese in little cafes.”

“Mmmh, I like that. What else?” 

“We could take a train to Switzerland and I could pop little squares of chocolate in your mouth by a cozy fire.”

“I would definitely enjoy that,” I put my hand on his knee. “What else did you imagine?”

“I thought of a vacation by the sea in Greece. It would be hot and we would drink cold wine under an umbrella, swim naked in the Mediterranean.”

“That might be the winner right there, except for the swimming part. I like the heat, wine, and nudity,” I laughed and snuck my hand up his thigh a few inches.

“Ah, but I haven’t told you about Italy. You’d love all the art and music in Italy.” 

“Pretty,” I sighed. “I’m ready to pack my bags. For someone who doesn’t have much of an imagination at times, you sure came up with some good stuff there, Mister.” 

“Well, I have to confess, it wasn’t so much my imagination as places I’d been before when I was alone, places I want to share with you. That’s what those four days made me realize, Lucia, that I want to share my life with you.” 

“Gabe,” I could barely breathe. “How?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t even know. . . well, would you even want that? With me?” 

I could only nod as my eyes filled with tears. 

The server came by our table to ask if we wanted more wine or to see a dessert menu and we both simultaneously declined. Between us, raw energy thrummed and we didn’t need any further conversation to know we wanted to be home, in bed, together. Since we’d met each other at the restaurant, we had to drive back to my place in separate cars. The drive home was just long enough to fill me with questions and questions always led to doubt. But as soon as we got inside my door and shrugged out of our coats, Gabe’s arms were around me and his lips pressed on my cheeks, my forehead, my jaw. His fingers caressed my face as if I were something very fragile, then they floated down my neck, over the tops of my breasts. “I love you,” I said and just hearing the words out loud eclipsed any questions or doubt I’d felt. 

“Baby,” he breathed on me and I was already unbuckling his pants as we stumbled back to my bed. “I want to make you feel so good.”

“You do, oh, Gabe, god, fuck,” I gasped as he mouthed my breasts over my sweater and sent electric waves careening through my abdomen. Through the soft material of my sweater and bra, I felt the warmth and wetness of his kisses and I arched back over his arm so he could kiss me harder. I’d managed to push down his pants and wrap my hand around his cock. He thrust his hips to ride my hand for a while. But we both needed more skin. We needed the bare heat of our bodies pressed squarely against one another, and to this end, we released one another just enough to tear off remaining layers of clothing. Once naked, he pulled me on top of him on the bed and wrapped his arms around me. He was hard, leaking against my abdomen, but he didn’t make any other moves just then. 

“Is this okay?” He asked. “I just want to hold you.”

“Yes,” I said. I nuzzled my head on his chest and idly stuck out my tongue to lap at one of his nipples. This action elicited an interesting noise deep in his throat, so I did it again, then circled his nipple and began to suck on it very gently. I played with the other one in my fingers, pulling the little hairs around it ever so lightly. He moaned and pushed against me. I rubbed my breasts on his chest, then slid down to let them pass over his erection and balls. Massaging his inner thighs with even strokes, my thumbs teased the edges of his balls, I rubbed my chest over his groin again and his entire body quivered. I dragged my body back up over his tummy and torso, allowing my nipples to graze as much of him as possible, and when I was flush atop him again, I kissed his lips and said, “I wanna make you feel good too.”

“So good,” he whispered. “Oh, Baby, you’re so very good.” 

I slipped easily onto his cock and wrapped my arms around him. We continued holding on to one another in the stillness with which we’d started. We were breathing the same rate and rhythm and though our bodies were still, our hearts were racing. My clit pressed down on his shaft and the pressure alone built insane tension in me. I moaned and he ran his hands softly up and down my back, over my ass to guide me into a super slow pace. Barely moving at all, I could feel every inch of him glide through me. Heat built in my belly and spread out over my thighs. We were still chest to chest, my head next to his on the pillow, my cheek pressed to his. I felt soft and tight at the same time, like I was going to snap back and be sent flying. I was starting to come, but it rippled through me in an inside out manner- my womb convulsed first and send waves of pleasure through my walls, my labia and finally my clit burst into an endless series of intense spasms. 

“Fuck, Gabe, fuck!” I practically screamed. “I’m coming so hard for you,” I bit his neck and sucked hard as I started to ride him through the strongest climax I’d ever had and into another. I sat up enough to put a nipple in his lips for a moment, but then I was arching back, fucking him as hard as I possibly could. 

He cried out, and let me know he was close. “Do you need any more?” He asked, but it was clear it wouldn’t be as pleasant for him if he held out any longer. I begged him to come and as soon as the words left my lips, his body bowed on the bed and he gave it all up for me, squeezing my ass to hold me so he could finish deep and hard. I collapsed next to him and we lay there trying to catch our breath. After a few minutes, he kissed my cheek and said, “Do you remember the first time you made me come?.”

“Yeah, in your car?”

“Mmmh. This just now reminded me of that time, it felt like there was so much, like it was never going to end. Back then I was sort of embarrassed, but now it just feels so good. Look at it, it’s still twitching!” He put my hand on his cock and I felt the little pulses of aftershocks. 

“I take it you didn’t um. . . pleasure yourself during the week?” I giggled.

“No. I saved myself for you. Did you?”

“No, I was too sad. I didn’t even get frustrated.”

“Ahh, I was aching for you,” his voice was gravely and low. “I used to be able to go for months on end without even thinking about it, but now I can’t be away from you for a couple days without feeling like I’m gonna burst if I can’t be with you.”

“It is seriously sexy to think about you wanting me that bad,” I murmured. “And even more sexy when you flood me. I love everything about that, Gabe.” I kissed him and he sat up. I asked where he thought he was going. 

“Stay here,” he whispered and I heard him go into the bathroom and run the water. He came back with a warm, damp cloth. He washed me between my legs, his big hands applying just the right amount of pressure to my flesh which still felt heated and sensitive. 

“That’s nice,” I smiled, finally coming down and feeling the lazy after glow of our exertions. “Thank you.”

“I just want to take care of you,” he kissed my hip and brought the cloth back to the bathroom. When he came back, he gathered me in his arms. “I can’t stand hurting you, Baby. I want to make you feel nice before, during, and after.”

“How do you know how to do stuff like that?” I wondered. 

“I wish I could say it was as simple as intuition,” he said. “But I must admit, I did a little research about how to care for a woman after intimacy. Some of it seemed silly, but I read that about the warm washcloth, and I thought you might like it.”

“I did like it. A lot,” I giggled. “But you did research?” I felt him shrug under my head. 

“Look, a lot of what happens between us feels completely natural and normal, but Lucy, you’ve got to remember I’ve lived on the planet for forty seven years without this kind of intimacy. Sometimes, I just feel so stupid. You’re so young and you’ve already lived in ways I’m just beginning to know. I’m sorry if it was wrong to research.”

“Don’t be sorry! I love that you did that for me. Hey, didn’t Jesus wash his people’s feet? Are you like Jesus washing my vulva?” I wiggled my fingers in his armpit and he laughed. 

“I really hope not, although the Bible seems to indicate Jesus did love women. Priests weren’t always celibate, you know.”

“So I’ve read,” I sighed. “It’s a pity they changed that rule. It seems inhumane. Gabe, did you really believe you could live forever without sex?” 

“Mmmhmm,” he replied, then seemed to consider my question more deeply. “I can see how it must seem crazy, or not make any sense, given the way I am with you, but I believed in the promises I made. I believed them and I kept true to them for decades. When I went to seminary in the 80s it was an intense time of change in the world. It was the height of the Cold War and the beginning of the AIDS epidemic. I was struck by how frightened people were of one another. I wanted to make the world a better place. Maybe that was foolish optimism of youth, but I really believed I could do it. The military was definitely not my path and I didn’t have the stomach for med school. So, it seemed like becoming a priest would allow me opportunities to travel and connect with people, help people find their way to healing through the love of the church. I know you don’t understand that, but it’s what I believed. I really believed I could go without basic human comforts and resist fundamental urges for the greater good.”

My mind wrapped around his words and sucked the marrow out of them, trying to make meaning. “Do you still believe those things?” I asked at last. 

“I do,” he said without hesitation. “I’ve broken my word and my bond, and I doubt my infallibility as a priest and my strength as a man now. But I still believe in serving God. I still believe in being a priest and in working for peace and unity in the world.” He paused and ran his fingers through my hair, pulled the covers around my shoulders. “I also believe now in loving you, Daisy.” 

“What about Sylvia?” My question was so abrupt it startled us both.

“What about her?”

“Did you believe in loving her?”

Gabe sighed thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. It was many years ago, and it didn’t get far. There was temptation, connection, but I don’t know if I can say there was love.”

“What was she like?”

“Well, I think I told you before, she was married. She had kids.”

“But what else? What drew you to her?”

“She played violin. She was an excellent musician, very bright. She was devout, as many Italians are with their religion, so she came to mass several times a week and she volunteered for several of my charities, which put us in each other’s company often.”

“Was she young? Like me?”

“No. She was the same age as me. We were both thirty.” 

“Do you ever talk to her still?”

“No. When we said goodbye, it was very final. Why are you asking so many questions about her?”

“Well, it seems like she was the only other woman in your life before or besides me. I’m just curious, I guess.”

“I don’t mind answering your questions, but you have to understand, there is no comparison. I don’t think of her as a woman in my life the way I think about you. There has never been and never will be anyone for me like you, Lucy.” 

“How is that possible?” I stroked his face to turn it toward me. He nipped my lips. 

“It just is. It’s something in which I have faith,” he whispered. 

“Faith,” I scoffed and gave his chest hair a little clench in my fist.

“Careful,” he said and wrapped his big paw around mine to gentle it. “What have you got against faith anyway, especially when it’s just my faith in my love for you?”

“I guess I think of faith as a religious concept,” I said and allowed my fingers to be woven with his.

“I suppose it can be, but it can also relate to a lot of things. Faith in our abilities. Faith in our place in the world. Faith in relationships and feelings.” 

“But you also have faith in a higher power. A man in the sky with a beard who controls us?” 

“Well, I don’t know if I’d put it that way,” he chuckled and kissed my forehead. “But yeah, I have faith in God. Sort of a requirement of the job.” 

“Gabe? There was something else I wanted to ask,” my voice sounded strangely meek. 

“Ask me anything, Daisy.”

I propped myself up on my elbow and looked down at him. He was all in shadows, but I could feel he was looking at me with love and there wasn’t anything beautiful-sad about it around his eyes. When I touched his forehead, he closed his eyes so they wouldn’t cross as I ran my fingers down his nose and over his lips. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath and asked, “What exactly did you mean yesterday when you said you didn’t want god if you couldn’t worship me?” 

“Just that,” he said. For a moment we were both quiet, then he spoke again. “Every minute we spent apart, all I wanted was to fold my existence into yours. I wanted to hear your laugh, your footsteps, the way you hum to yourself while you cook. I wanted to hear your voice, even if it was angry or cross, even if you hated me, I wanted to hear your voice speak to me. I prayed for guidance. I prayed for relief. I prayed for God to show me another way. I prayed for my heart to stop beating out the syllables of your name, and your name alone. But God was silent and I was left alone with my longing for you, with my love. When I saw you yesterday, everything came rushing back to me, but it was exponential. I felt more love and desire for you than I ever had and it made perfect sense I’d turn my back on a God who’d forsaken me to treasure the sweetness of your being, the reality of your touch.”

“Oh. Oh Gabriel,” I whispered. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you love me. Say you’ll let me spend my life sharing every little thing with you.”

“Yes,” I could barely speak. “I love you. Yes.”

“I need to know you’ll be there,” his mouth was hot and damp on my collar bone and his voice reverberated in my heart. 

“What?”

“If I leave. Lucia, I need to know if I do this that you will be there and you will love me.” His hands felt huge on my waist. 

“God, Gabe, it’s all I want. You’ve given my heart a home. For the first time in my life. No one has ever loved me like this.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his face close to mine. We kissed and he was half on top of me in my bed. I realized I’d wrapped my legs around his and started rubbing against him. I bit his bottom lip and whimpered as he dragged a finger through my folds. Curiously, I brought my hand down to find he was fully hard again. 

“What I want to know is how I’m already wanting you after we just finished.”

“You’re a stud,” I laughed. 

“I think I’m addicted to you,” he grumbled and drew some figure eights around my clit with the pad of his middle finger. I gulped and pulled him on top of me, opened my legs and angled his cock at my opening. He smiled down at me and pulled his hips back teasingly. I frowned. “What do you want? Tell me,” he said. 

“I want you inside me,” I whined. He responded to my request by simply teasing my clit with the tip of his cock. “Oh, god, pleeeaassseee, Gabe.” I begged and he placed himself just barely at my hole. “Inside, now, I want you so bad, Gabe!” I practically demanded. He slipped in just an inch and rolled his eyes back, trying to delay his gratification as long as he could while simultaneously frustrating me to no end. With an edgy huff, I wrapped my legs around his hips and forced him down and into me. We both laughed out loud at the sudden, maddeningly good sensation of our wet, hot join. 

“Such a little devil,” he chuckled as he set to sucking my nipples. 

“Shut up and fuck me already for the love of god,” I said and he did just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi my pals... I hope you enjoyed this installment. . . I have a crazy week ahead of me and between that and some pretty crushing depression and anxiety, I'm not sure when I'll get around to posting again. I do hope it is soon as this story and your companionship are a couple of the few things keeping me chugging along right now on this dark journey. I'm okay, like no major worries or anything, just what we like to call a rough patch. Aaannnyyyhooooooo, thanks again for your support and connection during this story. 
> 
> PS, don't forget to check out the post with the list of songs that inspired the story.
> 
> PPS., If I wrote a series of sexy one offs about Gabe and Lucy that don't really have a place in this story, but would be super fun to write, would anyone be interested in reading them? Basically just porn without plot...


	37. Chapter 37

After finishing our second round, I fell soundly asleep in his arms.

At some point in the night, I dreamed a woman with short hair and delicate features walked into my room and sat on the edge of my bed. Her eyes dazzled in the dark, but I couldn’t tell what color they were. She stared at me and I lay, looking back at her. She wore a long, green robe of shimmering material that seemed to move around her, though she sat still. She looked both sad and wise and I opened my mouth to ask her if she was Sylvia, but no sound came out. She brought a slender finger to her lips, as if shushing me, then she smiled, but it was a sad smile. It was the kind of smile you make when you catch someone’s eyes at a funeral. The dream must have shifted, or I might have fallen into a deeper cycle of sleep, because I didn’t recall anything of the dream after that particular moment.

When I woke, I felt hungover, haunted by the image of the mysterious woman sitting on my bed. It was barely light outside. Gabe was still asleep, and I curled my body against his. His warmth was comforting in the crisp chill of the October dawn. As I snuggled deeper in the covers, and closer to him, I realized my nose was cold, and for some reason, my cold nose made me remember we still hadn’t discussed how we would manage the holidays. For all of our planning and talking, we’d neglected to address the one topic that nearly ended our relationship the week before.

If anything, I had more questions than answers, and they roiled chaotically in my mind. I tried to go back to sleep, but found it impossible. For the better part of an hour, I watched the room grow lighter with the glow of autumn morning, and I listened to Gabe’s even breath. I chewed my thumb nail down to the skin, and bit at the insides of my cheek. I thought about getting up and making coffee, but it was so deliciously warm in bed, and I preferred when Gabe made and brought me coffee in bed when he stayed over. I considered waking Gabe and demanding answers, but that hadn’t worked out so well the last time. Restlessness bled into feeling completely edgy.

Ultimately, I ended up slinking under the covers. Gabe slept naked on his back beside me, and I burrowed between his legs. His cock was limp, but still thick and meaty on his thigh. Gently, I opened my mouth and finagled it between my lips and onto my tongue. Softly, I closed my mouth around him, enclosing him in my warm, wet orifice. I just kept him there, sucking him just a little, and sighing because it felt wondrously comforting. Within a moment, I felt him pulsate on my tongue as he grew aroused in his sleep. He gave a little grunt and I smiled, feeling him awaken. I rolled my tongue around his head and he hardened quite a bit more, in an almost sudden jerk. I sucked more intensely on him, feeling his engorged fullness now pushing my mouth open more with its beautiful girth.

“Wha-“ he groaned, waking more and realizing what was happening to him. “Oh, god, oh Baby,” he sighed and peeled the covers off me so he could see. I sank down on him, burying my nose in his thatch of tight auburn curls, and smelling my own fragrance, still on him from the previous night. He brushed the hair away from my face and lifted his head off the pillow to look at me, but quickly dropped back down when overwhelmed by my mouth swirling around him, my tongue poking through his slit, tasting bitter drops of his precum, my fingers tickling back over his balls and pushing at the knot of his anus. When I touched him there, he gave such a cry and thrust up in my mouth, practically filling my throat with his cock.

His responses to my attention had brought me from feeling comforted to aroused, and I snaked one of my hands between my own legs to touch myself. He must have seen or sensed. “No, no, Baby. Will you do something for me?” He asked and I looked up. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop, but turn around and come up here for me so I can kiss you. That’s right,” he said as I pivoted my mouth around on his cock and draped my body over his so he could reach my pussy with his mouth. “Oh, you’re so good,” he moaned as he licked a stripe through my folds and thrust his tongue into my hole. He pulled on my legs and angled me so he could suckle my clit and alternate fucking me with his fingers and tongue.

I moaned around his cock and I know he felt the vibrations. He opened his legs and I fondled his balls and played around and in his anus a little bit. He was thrusting into my mouth more and more as I did this, and had my pussy practically glued to his face. He must have felt my climax building and I could feel every pulse and twitch of his dick as he rubbed it on my tongue, against my cheek, in the back of my throat. I whimpered, clenching my walls tight around his fingers, trying to hold off just a little longer, but he said, “Don’t hold back. Come for me, Baby. I’m right there, oh it’s so good! I need it! Now!” Feeling his voice buzz on my clit then feeling his tongue lap me again sent me flying and just as I started to writhe on his face, he let go in my mouth.

I swallowed him quickly and turned around to find his embrace. He held me as I quaked with the power of my orgasm. “Good morning, Mister,” I said and kissed his chest.

“I’ll say,” he was breathless. “What on earth came over you? Not that I’m complaining, but wow. Talk about a dream coming true.”

“Pun intended?” I tittered.

“Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully and petted my hair. “That was honestly one of my fantasies that I was too embarrassed to ask about,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe it was too dirty or taboo. I didn’t know if real people actually did that.”

“You mean wake a guy up by giving them head, or sixty nine?” I threaded my legs around his, fascinated by his confession, by the way his brain worked.

“The second thing,” he whispered.

“Well, it isn’t something I do often, but I can tell you real people absolutely do it. Did you. . . like it?”

“Like it? It was incredible. Every time I think we’ve done the best thing, you show me something else that blows me away,” he sounded so innocent, but I couldn’t resist laughing at his pun.

“Or is that a double entendre? I don’t even know,” I laughed. “But seriously, I want to make all your fantasies come true.”

“And I want to make you coffee and pancakes. Would you like that, Baby?” He patted my hip when I said I would. “Good, but first I’m going to need a shower. Wanna wash my back?”

We showered and I sat at the island in the kitchen and watched as he made coffee and pancakes. “You look right at home in my kitchen,” I said. He smiled and placed a mug of coffee before me. “So when do you want to move in?”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” he said and flipped four perfectly golden pancakes on the griddle.

“Gabe, I’m serious. You obviously can’t stay at your place when you leave the church, since the church owns it. And it doesn’t make a ton of sense for you to get another place on your own, does it?”

He slid a plate of pancakes in front of me with a small pitcher of syrup he’d warmed in the microwave. He pushed at his glasses and considered my words. “It’s a lot to think about,” he said at last and turned to pour more pancake batter onto the griddle. He didn’t sound evasive so much as flustered.

“Are you taking it back?” I asked.

“No,” he shook his head and put down the spatula to take a swig of his coffee. “I just want to be thoughtful about it, Lucy.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. “What’s there to be thoughtful about?”

He turned away from me, flipped the pancakes and turned back. “This is a big deal. I want to do it right. I want to figure things out and have a plan that feels solid.”

“What does that mean?” I pushed. He put the pancakes on his plate, turned off the stove, then came to sit with me at the counter.

“It means, I need a plan for living arrangements, for employment. I don’t even know what priests who leave the church do for work.”

“I told you, you can live with me, and you don’t need to worry about money, at least not for a while. I’ve got plenty, and I have a job.”

“That’s generous, Baby, really it is,” he picked up my hand and kissed it. “But I’m a grown man. I know it’s a sin to be prideful, but I have to be able to make my own way and to support a family if I am to have one. I can’t rely on a girlfriend half my age to support me. I just can’t.” He sighed and shoveled a large bite into his mouth. “What are you smiling about?” He asked around his mouthful.

“You said you wanted to support a family,” I whispered.

“I did. Should I not have said that?”

“Well, it’s just. . . do you see that? With me? A family?”

“A family can be a lot of things. Can’t it?” His voice was gentle. It wrapped around me like velvet. “Our family could just be you and me or it could be you and me and a dog or a cat or both. Or. . .”

“Or?”

He shrugged and smiled shyly at me. “Every time I baptize a new baby now, I wonder what it would be like, you and me. . . I know I’m getting ahead of myself here. I probably shouldn’t even say anything. I don’t want to upset you. Plus I’d be pretty old to be a first time father, but I look at you and it’s like all these doors open up that were never there before.”

“Oh.” Words didn’t seem adequate. “Is that a good thing?”

Gabe wiped a blob of syrup off his beard with one of my blue, gingham napkins. I thought I’d never seen anything as beautiful as his fingers clutching that square of cloth just then. “I don’t know if it’s good or bad. It just is,” he said. “How does it make you feel to hear it?”

“Full,” I said without really thinking about my answer or what it meant. “It makes me feel full of you and love and how I want to walk through every door with you by my side.”

“Yes,” he nodded and his smile was soft. “I don’t think I could love you any more than I do, Daisy. I think I’d explode and cease to exist if I did,” he whispered and his face looked like it might melt into tears. I hopped off my stool and went to his side.

“I know. I feel the same. I am the same as you,” I said and pressed my lips on his neck. He turned to me and put his arms around me, regarded me with an expression that was not as soft as it was serious.

“Then you must understand that more than anything, I do not want your name associated with any scandal. I’m only a passer by in this town, but you’ve lived here your whole life. It’s your home. I don’t want to create anything here that will sully either your home or your beautiful name. Okay? That’s why I have to be so very careful. Can you give me a little time to think on it? Can you let me try and figure a way out of this that feels right for both of us?”

It seemed fair and he seemed earnest, so I agreed.


	38. Chapter 38

October bled into November. Bright copper foliage turned russet brown and drifted down off trees into crunchy piles. My days and weeks were made of two things- the minutes I spent with Gabe, and the minutes we were apart. Everything I did was a means to an end, and his presence was a reward of sorts for slogging through the rest of my obligations.

My whole world had different dimensions, deeper colors, richer textures and flavors that I could only experience when I was with him. When I was with him, it felt safe to actually open my eyes and explore the world around me; because I trusted him, I could trust myself. I didn’t know if this was right or wrong. I’d never been truly in love before and neither had he. His intensity when we were together seemed to match mine, so I figured it was how love was supposed to feel. Or at least, it was the fantastic sensation of our love.

While he couldn’t exactly move in with me, Gabe delighted me by stashing a few of his things at my house. His toothbrush stood proudly next to mine in the bathroom. Up on the shelf, his dark green stick of deodorant sat like a plump bird next to my pale blue one, just barely touching. In the bedroom, he claimed a drawer with some socks and underwear, a few shirts, a couple sweaters, and a pair of jeans. I bought him some PJ pants for lounging around the house, even though when we were together at night we both slept skin to skin. In addition to toiletries and clothes, he left a small assortment of books, and brought over one of his acoustic guitars. Signs of his presence in my life made me smile every time I walked past them.

One Sunday, June came by to pick me up for brunch. I hadn’t mentioned anything to her about Gabe leaving the church, nor had I said anything about his spending increased time at my apartment. She immediately noticed the large, black guitar case leaning against a wall in my living room. From there her eyes traveled to a pile of books.

“Ummm, so, am I going to find a stack of Priest Life magazines around the next corner?” Her eyebrows had disappeared in the thick fringe of her bangs they were arched so high.

“Very funny,” I quipped. I explained Gabe had just left a few things at my place.

“He moving in?”

“No. Not quite. Not yet,” I felt my cheeks grow hot as I awaited her barrage of questions and criticism. Strangely, June didn’t have much more to say on the subject, which struck me as more concerning than if she’d simply railed at me for inviting such chaos into my life. She didn’t even make up a slutty and Irish sounding name for Gabe. Something about her coolness on the subject made me stick to other topics during our time together, such as school and our other mutual friends, who she pointedly insinuated I’d not seen much of in the past few months. When she dropped me back at my apartment, she gave me a warm hug, which felt nice, but told me to be careful, which felt icky. Overall, it was an awkward morning, and I was relieved to be done with it.

Because Gabe promised me Christmas, I eventually stopped trying to convince him to blow off his conference and trip to New Mexico to be with his friends for Thanksgiving. He reasoned with me that he couldn’t rock the boat just yet, and I reasoned with myself that we would have an endless progression of other holidays once he finally made his move. In the mean time, his “move” seemed both guaranteed and elusive. On nights he wasn’t with me, I googled articles about priests who fell in love and left the church. From these similar stories, I tried to glean the magic moment or secret answer that made these men leap out of the stained glass window and into their waiting lover’s arms. I came up short every time, but I thought maybe Gabe might be able to figure it out if I shared my research with him.

One night, he was reading on the couch. I’d been grading papers in the other room when I came across a few of the articles I’d read and printed out in a folder in my work bag. I padded out to the living room, armed with my discoveries. “Look,” I shoved the stack of paper in Gabe’s direction. He blinked several times at me, but didn’t immediately take the information.

“What’s this?” He asked.

“I’ve been doing some research on our situation. Look at all these stories.” I ruffled the papers. “This guy even had a baby with one of his parishioners and the entire church knew! And that was in Ireland where it’s like super strict. See? Anything is possible.” Gabe sighed heavily, took the stack from my hand, and set it on the coffee table without even looking at it. He offered me a pinched smile and resumed reading. “Aren’t you even going to look at them?” He closed his book around his finger, temporarily marking his place, and looked at me.

“I know all the stories,” he chuckled somberly. “You think we haven’t all heard them in seminary or sat and listened aghast in meetings and conferences when this stuff occurs? I am well aware of what happens to these priests before, during, and after they forsake their vows.”

“Forsake?” I asked. “That sounds ominous.”

“It sounds ominous because it is ominous,” he said and his voice had an exasperated edge to it. He placed his book on top of the papers and folded his hands in his lap. “You’ve got to understand how serious this is, Lucy. This isn’t just like a college kid changing majors or deciding where to go for grad school. This is my whole life, my career, my reputation, and by extension yours.”

“Right, you’ve said all this before. I know.”

“But I don’t think you really do. You’ve been studying marine biology for what, three years? Think of how important it is to you. Think of all you’ve invested in that short amount of time. Then imagine that I’ve invested as much or more over nearly three decades. You could turn around and start over in a heartbeat! You’re young and you have means and energy. I’m at a much different stage in my life; starting over isn’t as simple.”

“But I would do it for you. I’d give up anything for you, Gabe.”

He closed his eyes and bowed his head before replying. “It’s not the same, Lucy. What do you have to give up? In actuality, in reality, what could you possibly have that bears the same weight as a career of 28 years that doesn’t easily transition into something else and destroys your name at the same time, thereby further jeopardizing your chances of creating something else? I appreciate your sentiment. I do. But, Baby, you have to understand anything you would offer to abandon for me is merely hypothetical compared to what I’m actually looking at.”

“Okay. Sorry.” I felt small and stupid.

“Hey, come here,” he said. He extended his arm. I took his hand and he pulled me close to him on the couch. “It sounds harsh and I’m sorry. But I’ve got to be honest with you. I know you’re trying to be helpful, but you’ve got to back off and let me figure this out. It’s so much pressure. I know you don’t mean to contribute to it.”

“I just want to be useful, Gabe. I know it isn’t easy. But, fuck, you make me sound like a stupid and selfish kid. It seems like you don’t even need me. I need you so much it’s scary. I want you to need me too. Even just a little bit.”

“You are not stupid or selfish,” he said and kissed each of my cheeks. He brushed the hair away from my face and looked at me lovingly. “And I do need you.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I do. A lot,” he said. He took off his glasses and set them on the coffee table, on top of his book, and held the back of my head with his hand as he kissed me. When he held my head in his hand like that, I felt small, but in the good way. “I need you so much, Baby,” he kissed down my neck and I let my head go limp in his hand. He unzipped my sweatshirt so he could kiss the tops of my breasts. I wasn’t wearing a bra, so he easily got his lips around a nipple. I arched into his mouth. “Feel how much I need you,” he took my hand and placed it on the bulge that had risen in his pants. Admittedly, it was an awkward transition into intimacy, but his kissing and touches were making me wet and dizzy. He nudged my fingers toward his belt and it was clear what he wanted. Feeling him throb under my hand made me want to give in. And I almost did. I think we were both surprised when I tore away from his crotch and pushed him off of me.

“So is that it?”

“What?” He looked at me blearily, pupils blown with lust making his eyes dark and glossy.

“You just need me for sex?”

“Of course not. No!”

“Well, it kind of seems that way.” I snapped. “Kind of makes me question why you’re even with me if I’m too young to understand you or be good for anything besides sucking your dick.”

“Lucy,” he sighed. “That’s vulgar and not necessary. And it’s also completely untrue. Come on, we do not have to have sex, but I really don’t want to fight.”

“Fine,” I huffed. “I’m sorry.” I told him I was going to go finish my work in the other room. I wasn’t angry at him as much as I was hurt and confused. He cleared his throat as I was about to stand. I could tell he was about to say something, so I paused.

“I love how much you want to help me,” he said and kissed my nose. “No one has ever loved me as fiercely as you do, Daisy. I feel that and I love you so much. Okay?”

“Okay, Mister,” I said and rustled his silky, dark curls. He’d softened the edges of whatever it was I’d been feeling so I was able to happily go back and finish my work. As I was closing my laptop and packing stuff away for the night, I heard the chords of a familiar song drift from the living room. It took me a moment to place it, but by the time I’d gotten back out to where Gabe sat with his guitar, I recognized with surprise he was strumming a very delicate version of a Nirvana song. His voice was airy and soft while also maintaining depth and warmth I could have fallen into forever.

“ _What else could I write? I don’t wanna fight. What else could I be? All apologies. . ._ ” He cradled his guitar against his chest and his fingers danced over the silver strings. “ _I’ll take all the blame, aqua sea foam shame. . .”_ I curled up on the opposite corner of the couch and listened to him sing and play, transfixed by his voice, by the gentle rocking of his body and slow tapping of his foot in time with the music. “ _All in all is all we all are. ._ .” he sang repeatedly, his voice getting quieter each time until at last he finished the song. He played a few more complex chords that sounded more classical, as if just for good measure, before finally stopping. He held his instrument around its neck and balanced it on the floor next to him.

“You serenading me?” I asked.

“I dunno. Is it working?”

“I mean. . . yeah,” I grinned. “I never met a priest who plays Nirvana before.”

“I’m a priest who does a lot of things that could be considered un priestly,” he murmured, leaning back against the couch and looking at me through heavily lidded eyes that were beautiful-sad and hadn’t quite lost their lust blown glaze. He set his guitar down carefully and reached over to stroke my jaw with two of his fingers. “I’m also a man who wants to show you how much he loves and needs you,” his husky voice made me quiver.

“Oh?” I inched closer on the couch. He nodded. I kneeled on the cushion next to him and purred in his ear, “Show me then.” He pulled me onto his lap so I straddled him, and unzipped my sweatshirt He buried his face in my cleavage and licked up to the hollow at the base of my neck. I worked at unbuttoning his shirt, stroking my hands over his chest, and hugging tight around him. He nipped my earlobe and kissed my neck. I sought friction against the hard heat that rose between his legs, and he groaned as I rocked back and forth on him. “Show me more,” I whispered and he pushed me to standing, pulled my pajama pants down over my hips and guided my legs to step out of them. He pulled my open sweatshirt off me and put his hands on my hips, rotated me so my back was to him.

“Stay put,” he said and I heard him unbuckle and unzip himself. I glanced over my shoulder to watch him shimmy out of his clothes. His pants and boxers were in a soft pile on the floor next to mine. I brought my hands to the waistband of my panties to take them off, but he stilled my hands with his and said, “Ummmh, no. Leave them on. You look so sexy like this.” He pulled me onto his lap, but with my back to his chest. “This okay?” He asked as he stroked his hands over my tummy and thighs. I moaned and nodded. He slipped a finger in the side of my panties and stroked through my folds. I shivered at how good it felt, but he must have thought I was cold, because he grabbed the afghan from the back of my sofa and wrapped it around his shoulders, and then around me. It had the effect of making me feel he enveloped me in a great set of wings. I lolled my head back on his shoulder and we nibbled each other’s lips as he held the blanket around us with one hand and resumed touching me where I was slick and hot with his other hand.

“Feels so good,” I mumbled, my head still on his shoulder. His erection pressed, velvety and warm, against my lower back.

“I need this,” his voice rumbled like thunder in my ear as he curled two fingers inside of me. I whimpered at the immediate and almost unbearable pleasure. “I need to be in here.”

“Yes,” I breathed and moved against his fingers. When he removed his fingers, he held me up slightly and angled himself at my entrance. I knelt over his lap to balance myself as he pushed my panties aside to make room for himself.

“Can I. . . like this?” He gasped, but I was already lowering myself onto his cock. He cried out and clutched my breasts as I sank down to his root. He clung to me, the soft hair of his chest tickling my shoulders. It was a new position for us and he filled me so completely I needed a moment to adjust, but once I did, we began to move in slow waves. He pulled my panties farther away from my slit in order to fondle me.

“Fuck, you’re so deep like this,” I groaned and rolled my hips over him.

“Is it okay? You feel okay?”

“God, yes,” I gasped and reached behind me to hold onto his neck for leverage so I could lift and sink over him. He met me with slow, deep thrusts that brushed against the spot inside me he’d been teasing earlier with his fingers. “You feel huge,” I panted, eager and greedy to come around him, and getting very close from his playing with my clit as he fucked into me in perfect timing.

“And you feel so tight and hot,” he mouthed on the shell of my ear. I felt his fingers move from my clit to explore the seal of our join and I brought a hand down to meet his. I felt my wet lips clinging to his shaft and I felt his fingers feeling it too and it was too much to bear. My orgasm tore through me. I would have fallen right over had he not been holding me fast against him, as he continued to thrust up inside me. He bit my shoulder and said, “Come on, Baby, I know you have more for me.” I turned to look at him as I brought my fingers to my clit and fingered myself into my next climax. By then I was half wild with pleasure and rode him more vigorously. His hands were everywhere at once, pinching my nipples, squeezing my ass, rolling my breasts, and finally clutching my hips and holding me down as he gave a series of deep thrusts and breathy groans and came.

He nuzzled in between my shoulders and kissed my spine. The blanket had fallen and he picked it back up and wrapped around us again. I squeezed myself to keep him inside me as long as I could, but eventually, he slid out. We were sticky, messy between our legs. “I think we need a rinse off,” I said through a sated yawn.

“Not yet,” he said. He pulled me down so we laid together like spoons on the sofa, my body snuggled securely into his. “It’s not the sex, Daisy,” he whispered, stirring my hair with his breath. “It’s the connection. I know you feel it too. Don’t you? Don’t you need that? Because I need it like I need to breathe, and I’ve never felt it with anyone on the planet besides you before.”

“I do,” I said and stroked his arms which embraced me.

“I promise you I am trying to find a way.”

“I know,” I sighed. “I just wish we could be like this forever.”

“Yeah,” his hands drifted over my breasts and belly. We were quiet for a while, enjoying the rhythm of our breath as it rose and fell like gentle waves. When he spoke, I’d almost fallen asleep. “You always want to know why I picked you, why I fell for you. And I don’t have a clear answer other than when I looked at you that first time, you looked so lost, but at the same time I felt as though you had found me. Every time I am with you I feel found. I never even knew it was a need I had before, but apparently I’d wandered through half my life like a lost, little boy. I’m rambling. . . sorry. This probably doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, Gabe, it makes perfect sense. I get it. I know exactly what you mean because I feel the same way.” I kissed his knuckles. “But?”

“Hhmm?”

“Do you think you’re going to hell? For loving me? Because I found you?”

He sniffed out a little laugh and squeezed his arms around me. “Nah,” he answered. “Personally, I’m not sure if hell exists, but if it does, I don’t believe someone gets sent there for loving another human.”

He must have felt my sigh of relief, or maybe his deep sigh carried my own breath with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's everyone doing?? I hope this chapter finds you well. I am still so enjoying all of your wonderful and supportive and insightful and kind and smart and funny comments. You have given me such a gift in allowing me to share this story with you. xoxoxoxox. Scar.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the lovely Iterations, who made me get off my butt and post something for all you lovelies. You can thank her... and if you haven't checked out her writing here, please do!! She is incredibly talented and creative and amazing.. xoxoxo. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I apologize for the delay. Life has just been. . . uggghhhhhhh and I have had limited resources and time for writing.

“I wish I could bring you to the airport,” I sulked. It was our last night together before his trip.

“Lucia,” he sighed. “We’ve been over this.” He pinched my chin and tipped my face up to make me look at him. “I’m coming back to you. We will figure this out. And hopefully you will never have to drive me to the airport because anywhere we go, we will go together, okay?”

“Guess I should renew my passport,” I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of us taking a plane anywhere in the world as long as we were holding hands. “But this will be the longest we’ve been apart since we’ve been together.”

“Baby, I lived almost forty eight years of my life without you. A week is gonna seem like nothing at all. And you have a whole list of fun plans for while I’m away. I bet you won’t even think about me when I’m gone.”

“Doubtful,” I said and dragged him toward the bedroom.

But he wasn’t exactly wrong. The week went by fast enough with the distracted buzz of students getting ready for their interstate travels for the holiday. And then it was Wednesday night and I was baking my traditional cranberry bread, stoned out of my mind, while June danced around my kitchen to Echo and the Bunnymen. “ _The killing time, unwilling mine_!” She sang in a heavily wine-slurred voice.

“That’s it, you are spending the night,” I laughed, turning down the music.

“Have I mentioned how much I fucking love Thanksgiving, Lulubee?”

“Only about a hundred times every year since we were like seven,” I smiled. She did look sincerely happy, stomping around my kitchen in the platform boots she’d proudly modeled for me earlier that evening when we were still sober. “Please don’t break your ankle dancing in those things. They look like death traps,” I said.

“ _Through the thick and thin_ ,” she twirled and sang, tunelessly and breathlessly, ignoring me completely, then she lowered her voice to match the singer, “ _Fate, up against your will, through the thick and thin, you will wait until you give yourself to hiimmmmmmmmm!_ ” She fell against me and almost knocked our wine glasses over as the song ended. “God I wish I’d seen them tour,” she said, suddenly still. She patted her hips and then looked around the room. Knowing what she was after, I handed her the pack of American Spirits that was on top of my microwave. We each lit a cigarette and wandered through the sliding glass door to the deck while the bread was in the oven. I brought my phone with the timer for the bread out with us.

“Betty Fuckin Crocker,” June snorted.

“Shut it or you get none,” I retorted.

“I like it when your master goes away so you can drink and smoke and play with me,” she said and exhaled a plume of smoke in the chilly, dark November sky.

“He is not my master, June. What the fuck?” I gave her a playful slap.

“Yeah, but you’re like way less fun when he’s around,” she said. “I swear when Claudia and I finally make it official, I will never grow a fucking stick up my ass.”

“Ummm, okay, first of all, I’ll wait and see about that. And second, you think I have a stick up my ass?” I couldn’t hide the hurt in my voice.

“Nooo,” she sighed and gave me a sloppy kiss on my cheek. “Actually it would make you even more cool if you and the priest were into ass play. Are you?”

“Of course not!” I screamed with laughter.

“Then I rest my case,” she declared.

“I hope we aren’t hungover tomorrow,” I giggled even as I swigged back more wine.

“Impossible!” June cheered. “We’ll take the magic sleepy time gummy bears I brought and be right as rain in the morning. You’ve changed your sheets though, right?”

“What?”

“Well, if I’m sleeping over, I don’t want to sleep in any priest cum stained sex sheets. No offense Lubes.”

“Oh gosh. None taken. I guess I can go and change them,” I said. I comforted myself knowing I had a shirt of Gabe’s to sleep with and sniff if I started missing him.

“You are such a dirty, little slut,” June sighed. “But I worship you for it.”

“He’s gonna leave, Juju,” I whispered. I was drunk and stoned and being stupid, saying too much. “He really is!”

“Okay. I’ll believe it when I see it. Cuz I can tell you from experience, they never fucking leave.”

I was about to press her for more details on this, but the timer went off and I had to retreat to the kitchen to get the bread out of the oven. My whole house smelled sweet and warm and more than anything I wished Gabe was there with me. I’d checked my phone about a hundred times despite the fact he’d told me he probably wouldn’t be able to call or text at all during the conference. There was some rule about relinquishing all phones and communication devices prior to the retreat so the outside world couldn’t interrupt their period of holy reflection. I’d rolled my eyes when he told me this, but said nothing. Part of me hoped he’d call in between the retreat and his flight to Santa Fe, but I knew he’d be busy that day between travel and catching up with his friends. I knew better than to expect correspondence from him, but still my chest felt hollow and sore. At times, it even felt hard to breathe.

Per June’s request, I changed the sheets and we fell asleep in my bed as we had hundreds of times over a decade. Her snoring was a familiar comfort to me, even as it kept me awake for a good chunk of the night. We slept in the next morning, averting the worst of our hangovers in our sleep.

June’s parents lived in the same house in which June grew up with her two older brothers, both of whom were married and out of state. A stately Victorian in the historic district, their house looked like a giant’s doll house. It was sage green with ivory and purple bric a brac trim and a mulberry colored door. All you had to do was take one look at their home to understand how June became an artist. Her dad, Frank, was a doctor and her mom, Rachel, was a watercolor painter who had gained a sliver of notoriety in the village. Their warm, overstuffed home always smelled buttery and tasty. Growing up, I’d practically lived there. Rachel was as close to an older female relative as I would ever know, and although her father was far more reserved, he’d always been kind and welcoming to me. While I’d spent many holidays with their family growing up, I’d spent every holiday with them since my grandmother died. Although they always welcomed me at their traditional celebrations, and included me in Hanukkah gift exchanges, they also bought me a Christmas present. One year, Rachel even made me an Easter basket which she filled to the brim with bath bombs, lip gloss, and chocolate bunnies. Their favorite holiday was what they called “American Thanksgiving,” (as opposed to their similar, week-long Jewish holiday of Sukkot earlier in the fall) although over the years it had gotten a bit smaller and more subdued as her brothers married and moved away and older family members became too ill to travel or died.

This year, one of June’s brothers came home from Washington state with his wife and two young kids, so there was extra noise and festivity as the three year old ran around our legs and the baby got passed between our arms.

“Sasha, what are you feeding this thing?” June asked her sister in law while she held the baby. “She’s such a squishy chunk!” June stuck her face in the baby’s and made kissing noises then nuzzled her. “Oh my god she smells so fucking good! Oops, sorry, I mean she smells so yummy yummy yummy,” June cooed. Her sister in law laughed. For some reason the sudden show of affection confused me. I watched it play out as if I’d left my body where it sat on the couch next to June, and stood across the room.

In fact, the entire day had an odd feeling to it. It was like I was only half there. I kept catching myself wondering what Gabe would make of each and every scene, every snippet of dialogue, every moment. Part of me wanted to remember everything to tell him about later, and another part of me wanted to just make it go as fast as possible so I could get to the other side of the infernal separation between us. I wondered what he was doing, if he’d said anything about me to his friends, if he was thinking about me as hard as I was about him. As the day unfolded, I projected myself out to the next year. Would he bring me to Santa Fe? Would he come to June’s with me? Or would we do something entirely different together? I briefly imagined going back to New Hampshire and having Larry serve us a Thanksgiving meal of many courses by the window overlooking the mountains. But as soon as I visualized it, I figured Larry would probably be celebrating with his own family, and maybe the hotel didn’t even serve Thanksgiving supper. It was an odd train of thought that brought me on a round trip back to my quiet reverie at the Goldstein’s.

I thought about what it would be like if Gabe came with me to June’s for Thanksgiving. Would he watch football with June’s dad or drink wine and joke around with me and June? When June’s dad carved the turkey, I wondered if Gabe had ever cooked or carved a turkey before, and if so, for who? I realized I didn’t know if he liked cranberries, or if he was allergic to anything. The thought that there were pieces of information I didn’t have about him practically made me panic. It had me so wrapped up, I barely even noticed when Rachel came up and put her arm around me.

“Is it just me, or are you incredibly distracted today?” Her voice was low, intuitive.

“Well your daughter did keep me up pretty late last night,” I attempted to joke.

“Oh, Lucy, I know it’s hard when we are thinking about the people who aren’t here,” she sighed with a gentle smile.

“Yes! Oh my gosh, how did you know? Did June tell you?” A soft wave carried me onto a tide of relief as I thought maybe I could talk to Rachel about what I was going through.

“She didn’t have to, honey. I know it’s been, what? Almost three years now since your grandmother passed away?”

“Oh,” my heart sank. “Yeah.”

“Holidays and anniversaries are always such tender areas, aren’t they.” She squeezed her arms around me.

“Yeah, they really are,” I said.

Gabe called as I was getting ready for bed. His voice was hushed like he didn’t want anyone to hear him. I didn’t ask what that was about. I couldn’t bear to. “Please just come home,” I begged. He replied by saying he’d changed his flight to a red eye and would be home first thing Saturday morning.

“See you then?” His voice sounded like the purr of a lion.

“Okay,” I choked back my tears and swallowed the urge to say it hurt to breathe without him near me. Instead I said, "I'm excited I'll get to see you on your birthday after all!" 

The next night June and I went out with an eclectic mix of friends from high school, college, and work at the university. Even though we’d both grown up in town, my naturally extroverted best friend knew dozens more people than I did, and we ended up chatting, drinking, and dancing until the early hours of the morning. At some point Tim joined us. Maybe it was the alcohol, but when I saw him coming toward me on the dance floor, I jumped up and down and leapt into his arms like he was a long lost friend and not a colleague I’d seen just a few days earlier. We bar hopped and finally found ourselves doing shots until closing time. By that point, I didn’t even know what I was drinking or how many drinks in I was. Stumbling down the street outside the bar, I puked into some bushes and started to cry.

“Alrighty there kiddo, let’s get you home,” Tim caught me under my elbow and walked me to his car.

“Isn’t it cold for surfing?” I sniffled, pointing to the surfboard he had secured to the roof of his car. He opened my door and got me into the vehicle.

“Not when you wear a wetsuit,” he said softly as he buckled my seatbelt. He jogged around to the driver’s side. “Here,” he said and handed me a pack of wintergreen lifesavers. Mercifully, it was a short drive home because I was starting to feel dizzy and like I was going to be sick again. Tim helped me into my house. “Come on, let’s get you settled,” he said. He gave me a little nudge toward my bedroom while he got a big glass of water. While I was changing into pajamas, I heard him looking around in my bathroom. I came out and found he’d prepared a dose of aspirin for me with the water.

“Thanks,” I muttered and took the medicine.

“It’ll help you possibly not feel quite as rough in the morning,” he explained. He rubbed his face. “Okay, I’m gonna get going. I’m not as much of a party animal as you and I’m beat.” He chuckled and gave my shoulder a gentle punch. I was about to say goodnight to him, but the second I opened my mouth, I had to run to the toilet to get sick again. After flushing my hundred proof vomit, I sat on my bathroom floor and cried. Tim appeared in the door and asked what was wrong.

“I got too drunk,” I said pathetically.

“Nah, girl, I mean why are you crying?”

“Oh, I dunno. I always cry when I get sick,” I explained. He extended a hand to me and pulled me up off the floor. Turning toward the sink, he examined the two toothbrushes in the cup next to the toothpaste.

“I assume this one is yours?” He picked up the pink and purple one and squeezed some turquoise paste onto it. He handed it to me and I tried not to sigh too hard about the fact he didn’t ask about the other toothbrush, not because I wasn’t incredibly relieved, but because I didn’t want to exhale drunken vomit breath on him. I brushed my teeth and realized I was still crying. Tim pulled me against his chest and hugged me. “Come on, it can’t be that bad,” he said. He led me into my bedroom and pulled back the covers for me. “Hop in,” he whispered and I obliged. He brought me a tissue and I blew my nose. “Luce, I’m gonna sleep on your couch, okay? And if you get sick again or if you need me, I’ll be right there.”

“Thank you, Tim,” I nodded. “I appreciate that. You’re a better friend than I deserve.”

“Nah. I’m happy to do it.” He kissed my forehead and turned out the light.

The next morning I woke early with a raging headache that would not allow me to go back to sleep. I got up and put on coffee. Tim still slept on my couch. I peeked in the doorway to find him covered with the same blanket Gabe had wrapped around our shoulders when we made love a couple weeks ago. With his long legs curled up, and his hands tucked under his cheek, he looked sweet, boyish. It made my lips twitch in a smile as I went back to the kitchen to get my coffee. Before long, Tim joined me.

“Milk? Sugar?” I asked, pouring coffee into a big mug for him.

“Yeah, both,” he said and I pushed the carton of milk and sugar bowl toward him so he could fix it the way he liked it.

“Are you hungover?”

“Nope. I only had two beers last night.”

“Really? Are you serious?”

“Yup,” he laughed. “I think you had lost track of how much you drank, so there was no way you were tracking my intake, or lack thereof.” He smiled his big, goofy grin and winked at me. He asked how I was feeling.

“Uh, probably about as good as I look this morning,” I scoffed. I’d awoken with a pale face, puffy eyes, and a drawn expression.

“You look great to me, so I’ll assume you’re just impervious to the effects of alcohol poisoning,” Tim said and blew on his coffee.

“I’d laugh my ass off if it wouldn’t totally crush my head to do so right now,” I said.

The knock on my door startled us both. We looked at each other in confusion. I was halfway to answering it, when I heard a key turning in the lock.

“Oh, fuck,” I breathed just as my door swung open and Gabe walked through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please say hi if you're still here!


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the angst roller coaster!! Toot toot!!!

A moment, thick with tension, passed between the three of us as Gabe materialized in my kitchen. It felt we were suspended in slowly hardening resin, as we glanced from one face to another. Between the two men, I didn’t know who looked more confused, and I didn’t even want to guess at the expression on my face.

I attempted to smile. A chilly trickle of sweat, born of either anxiety or the previous night’s alcohol consumption, prickled in my armpits. Shivering, I picked up my coffee mug and wrapped my hands around it to warm them, but instantly set it back down because I was shaking so hard I thought I’d drop it. My mind raced, trying to come up with something to say to melt the edges of icy agony. I swallowed hard. I had nothing. For a moment, I thought I might actually be sick. I picked my coffee back up, sipped and swallowed, both to quell my sudden nausea and for the simple task of doing anything.

I prayed one of them would speak. I prayed it was a bad dream. I prayed it was a bad, dirty joke. My eyes darted between them. Gabe’s mouth opened slightly, but he said nothing. Tim smiled awkwardly, jammed his hands in his pockets, and opened his eyes unnaturally wide.

Gabe broke the silence by dropping his bag onto the floor as he’d done dozens of times before when he’d come to my place for a night or two. My throbbing head, slowly, painfully putting pieces together realized he must have come straight from the airport. The sound of his soft sided bag hitting my kitchen tile wasn’t loud, but it made me jump and spill some of my coffee. I set my mug on the counter and wiped my hand on the leg of my pajama pants.

“Soooo,” Tim spoke first, “Hey, hi, Father, um, morning.” His voice was mellow and unassuming, as it typically was. I couldn’t help but smile as Tim pulled a hand out of a pocket and extended it toward Gabe with a gentle smile that seemed painfully sincere.

“Please, call me Gabe,” he replied and met Tim’s hand with his own. I watched this scene unfold as if I watched a tiger stalking prey, knowing something bloody and horrific was inevitable. They shook hands as I chewed the inside of my cheek to ribbons. Gabe was dressed in the burgundy sweater over a crew neck tee which was tucked into jeans. His hair was tousled and he looked tired. Next to Tim, who’s careless, wavy, golden mane looked full and frisky, and who’s eyes were blindingly blue even after a night on my sofa, Gabe looked much older than I was used to seeing him when it was just the two of us. But he still looked handsome and my heart tugged me in his direction. He glanced back and forth between Tim and me with an expression of possessive concern he barely concealed. If letting himself in with his own key wasn’t evidence enough, the look on his face sealed his fate.

Tim turned to me. “I’m going to get my shoes and jacket and take off.” He dashed into the living room and returned, stuffing his arms into his hoodie and zipping it before I could say anything to Gabe. “Talk to you later, Luce,” he said and ducked his head with a little wave and a smile I didn’t even recognize as part of his face. Dazed, I started to accompany him to the door but he said he’d let himself out and he disappeared before I could say a word.

I turned to Gabe, realizing I hadn’t said anything yet. “Hey,” I sighed and smiled. I stepped toward him expecting a hug, but he held me at arms length.

“Wanna tell me what that was?”

“Well, it was pretty weird,” I giggled nervously. “But I think it went well, all things considered.”

“Do you think this is a joke?” Gabe’s eyes glared at me from behind his glasses.

“N-no. No, of course not. It’s just. . .” I floundered for words, but my brain seemed consumed by a gust of nothingness. “Well, you didn’t tell me you were coming straight from the airport.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he said. He still hadn’t hugged me. I grabbed his wrist.

“Mission accomplished,” I scoffed and pulled him closer. Standing on tiptoes, I kissed his cheek. “Welcome back. I missed you.”

“Really,” he said, more a statement than a question. His voice was flat.

“Gabe, yes. Of course I did. I was going out of my mind without you.”

“Seems like you had plenty of company,” he grumbled.

“Oh my god, Gabe. For real?”

“What was he doing here, Lucy?” Gabe hissed his question at me, eyes narrowed in a manner that made me start shaking again.

“I had a big night last night. Things got a little crazy and I wasn’t feeling well. Tim slept on the couch to make sure I was okay. That’s all.”

“A _big night_?”

“Yeah, you know, like a bunch of us were out partying, bar hopping. I had too much to drink and Tim got me home safe.” A terrible mix of tension and defensiveness brewed in my gut. I pressed my nails into my palms trying to focus. He huffed out an angry laugh and put his hands on his forehead. “What?” My voice was shrill.

“I just had suspended the disbelief for a moment that you were so young.” He shook his head.

“What in the actual fuck is that supposed to mean, Gabe?”

“I don’t even know,” he said. He tugged the edges of his coat. Above the dark ridge of his beard, his flesh flushed.

“You can’t seriously be jealous,” I paced back to the counter, took a deep breath and turned around to face him. “You can’t seriously think I’d do anything with him. I did not cheat on you! I wouldn’t.”

“Even on a _big night_?”

“Stop saying that! And no! No, I would never.” I was annoyed with the whiney timber of my voice. “I’m yours, Gabe.”

“I know that,” Gabe sighed. He took off his glasses and set them on the counter then dropped his face into his hands. He rubbed his eyes.

“Then what? Why are you pissed?”

“I’m not,” his shoulders fell with his exhalation.

“Uh, really? Cuz you could fool me. You seem pretty pissed right now. I’m not exactly sure what I did. Am I not allowed to have friends over to my house or something?”

“No, Lucy, it’s not that,” he started.

“Then what the fuck is it?” I practically shrieked.

Gabe put his glasses back on and shook his head with a sardonic laugh. He wagged a finger at me. “His parents go to my church,” he said. “And now he’s seen me at your apartment, first thing in the morning with an overnight bag. Do you have any clue how that looks?”

“Well, you didn’t exactly help matters looking at us, at me, like an angry and ferocious lion!”

“Oh?” His face seemed to twist with a strange combination of emotion I couldn’t name. “I’m not sure how I was supposed to look, given the situation, but I’ll know to call ahead next time. Lesson learned.” His voice was hard.

“Who the fuck even cares?” My heart raced and I contemplated smashing my half full cup of coffee against the wall.

“I care,” Gabe said slowly. “I fucking care, Lucy. If he tells anyone. . . his sister, his parents. Shit! I can’t even begin to imagine the unmitigated disaster it would cause.”

“But you’re leaving the church anyway,” I tried to reason, but felt completely thrown by the unusual occurrence of Gabe’s casual and angry swearing.

“Yeah, well, I’d prefer not to leave it in complete disgrace, if it’s all the same to you.”

Cold sweat trickled out of my armpits and down into the small of my back. I tried to take a deep breath, but it felt like someone was piling cinder blocks on my chest. “Honestly, I don’t really see what difference it makes. You said you’re leaving by Christmas. That’s like in four weeks, Gabe!”

“Lucy,” he began. “That is not exactly what I said.”

“What?” I gasped.

“I said I’d _spend_ Christmas with you, but after this retreat. . . look, I don’t want to fight with you now. I’m tired and you’re obviously still recovering from whatever last night was.”

The room started to spin and waver as I became suddenly dizzy and my eyes filled with tears. “I don’t even believe this right now.”

“We can talk about it later.” He didn’t sound angry anymore, just defeated. “It was obviously a mistake coming here. I’m exhausted so I’m going to go home and sleep.” He turned and walked toward his bag.

“No!” I cried. I ran toward him and threw myself at his back. I wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed as I sobbed into the wool of his coat, which he’d never taken off. “No, you can’t leave. Please. I’m sorry. Tim won’t tell anyone, I promise. He won’t tell! Please don’t go Gabe, I missed you so much. I was lost without you!” My hands wriggled under his sweater and started plucking his shirt out of his jeans so I could touch his skin. The warmth of his body, the smoothness of his skin made me almost savage. He turned around and wrapped his arms around me.

“Lucy,” he whispered in my hair.

“Don’t go. Don’t be mad, please.” I was crying so hard I could barely speak. I felt like I was falling down a bottomless hole. I beat my fists against his chest, then clutched fistfuls of his flesh, trying to feel something, trying to find something to hold onto. He grabbed my wrists and held them away from him, then wrapped his arms around me.

“Okay, okay. Hush. Lucy, breathe, Baby. You’re going to hyperventilate yourself.”

“I can’t breathe! You stole my breath when you went away and now you just want to leave again,” I wept. He kissed all over my face and stroked my hair. He shrugged off his coat so he could hold me closer. I shook violently. I was freezing. It was like all the blood left my body and I was hollow, filled with nothing by freezing wind.

“Baby, look at me,” he said firmly and held my face between his two huge, strong hands. I felt tiny as a hazelnut in his clutch. My eyes snapped up and I whimpered as he trapped me in the rich, honeycomb of his gaze. “There you are,” he whispered. He stroked the tears on my cheeks with his thumb, but did not let go of my head.

“I knew it,” I cried softly.

“What? What did you know?”

“I knew you couldn’t possibly love me. I knew I’d fuck it all away and you’d leave.” I twisted out of his grip but my legs had somehow stopped working and I collapsed in a pile at his feet. Curling into myself, I couldn’t hear or feel anything. I shriveled into a pale wisp of lint, a dust bunny that could be swept up and tossed out. Part of me knew I was on the floor, but it felt like I still fell and the bottom of the hole never came. I kept falling. Surely my heart would give out before the impact of the crash killed me. Darkness came like a cruel gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No but seriously, thanks for reading still.... I promise more very soon. . . and please know your words of love and encouragement mean more to me than I can ever really explain. This story has gotten a bit harder to write because life has gotten harder, but also because things are getting more complex and I am trying to do it justice. Your support gets me through some really hard times. I hold you all in my deepest heart space and I hope I will make you happy and proud. xoxoxoxoxoxo.
> 
> PS please please come connect and play with me over at Tumblr. I'm Scarlette Star. xoxo


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more things change, the more they stay the same. . . amiright?

When I opened my eyes, I was on my sofa in his arms, my legs draped over his lap. His eyes were closed and his lips were moving in what seemed to be a soft prayer. I touched his mouth with my fingertips. He opened his eyes and his breath hitched. “Thank, God. Lucia, you scared me.”

“What happened?”

“I think you passed out for a minute,” he whispered. “Stay here, I’m going to get you some water.” As he went out to the kitchen, I remembered Tim getting me water the night before. Then the pieces of the morning came back to me in a sickening rush. He returned with a glass and handed it to me. “Drink,” he said. I took a sip and set it on the coffee table. “How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I feel stupid.”

“It’s okay. We both got wound up. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let my fears get the better of me and upset you as well.” He took my hand and squeezed it. “You’re freezing,” he observed. He pulled the blanket on the sofa over my shoulders, but it smelled like Tim and I shrugged it off.

“I know you wanted to leave,” I said. “So. . .”

“Lucy, first of all, I’m not going to leave you here like this. I don’t want to leave. I just didn’t want to cause a big scene so early on a Saturday and I thought maybe some space or some rest would do us both good.”

“We had space all week,” I said bitterly.

“Fair enough,” he said. “Are you sure you’re okay? Should we call a doctor? You’re still shivering.” He touched my forehead like he was checking my temperature.

“I’ll be fine. I’m sorry I made such a mess of things.” I sniffled. “But he won’t say anything. I swear it. He’s a good friend like that."

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, but his words sounded hollow.

“What is there to figure out? You went away and you realized you don’t love me anymore. End of story. I just wish I hadn’t been so dumb as to believe- .”

“Lucia! None of that is accurate. Please, be reasonable.”

“I can’t,” I sniffled. I tried to swallow back the tears, but they came all the same. “It hurts so fucking bad, Gabe.”

“What hurts?” He looked up and down my body.

“Losing you! I can’t bear it.”

He put two fingers on my lips and silenced me. “This stops now. Do you hear me? We are done with this.” Without another word, he pulled me up from the couch and led me into the bathroom. He started the shower. While the water heated, he undressed me and then himself. I noticed, as he slid his pants and boxers over his hips, he was already fully hard. At the sight of him, I shivered, and he hugged me. “Let’s get you warmed up,” he said, his voice gravelly with desire. When his erection pressed against my stomach, I felt warm, sticky pre ooze from his tip.

“Does my pain arouse you?” I asked.

“Absolutely not. Your pain hurts me deeply,” he said. “But your body. . . well, that’s another story, isn’t it?” With the tips of his fingers, he traced lightly over the sides of my breasts, down over my waist and hips. Instinctively, I quivered beneath his touch. He guided me into the shower and under the spray which was delightfully hot. Suddenly ravenous for him, I tried to grab his cock as I thrust my tongue in his mouth, but he turned me around so my back was to him. Hands on my waist, he lowered his head, kissed my jaw and whispered, “Easy. Go slow, Baby,” in my ear. His breathy voice was the whisper inside a shell.

He took the shower head from its mount and thoroughly wet my hair, then teased the spray over my ass and around to tickle my mound. Instantly, I wanted more, but he chuckled and placed it back up over our heads. I turned to glower at him but he shushed me and reached for the shampoo. Squirting a fragrant dollop into his hand, he proceeded to massage it into my aching scalp. I moaned at how marvelous his thick fingers felt against my head, and then my neck and shoulders. “So nice,” I managed to sigh. I felt the gentle scratch of his beard as he kissed my shoulder.

“You like that, hmmm?” His cock slid against my ass, and I pushed my hips back slightly inviting him, but he made no move to take me. He rinsed my hair and stroked conditioner into my tresses.

“Feels so good,” I twisted my head back and kissed him. When he kissed me back, his fingers pressed into my belly and a little groan escaped from his mouth into mine.

“I’m the man who’s going to take care of you after a big night now, understand, Lucia?” He purred in my ear and I felt it vibrate all the way down my spine.

“Hah! You _were_ jealous,” I said and shifted my body with his so he was under the spray.

“How could I not be jealous to come home and find another man with my girl in our kitchen?” His eyes rolled back as I returned the favor of washing his dark, glossy curls. As I rinsed the soap off him, I pressed my breasts against his chest.

“I might still be a bit boozy, but it kind of turns me on that you were jealous. Is that wrong?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “It is. And it’s equally wrong I was jealous in the first place. Love isn’t supposed to harbor such dark thoughts and feelings; at least I don’t think it is.”

“So you still love me?”

“Of course,” he bit the apple of my cheek. “I wouldn’t know how to stop loving you if I tried.”

“Me either,” I put my arms around his neck and leaned into him. “Are you still mad?”

“No. I’m not mad. I wasn’t mad in the first place. I was worried and I’m still worried, but I really don’t want to think about that right now.”

“Oh? What do you want to think about, Mister?”

“Honestly? I don’t want to think at all. I want to take you to bed and feel every inch of you all around me. And then I want to sleep with you in my arms. Can we do that?” Eagerly, I nodded and turned off the shower.

We toweled each other dry. Our bodies were warm, clean, and pink from the steaming water. We found our way to my bed. “How do you want me?” I asked as we curled into one another.

“Every way I can possibly have you,” he murmured. A dark, wolfishly hungry look passed over his face as he climbed on top of me. The silver in his beard glittered in the thin, November morning light.

“Take me then,” I said as he made his way between my legs. He rubbed my clit with the tip of his cock, quickly bringing me just to the edge. When he felt my breath quicken and my body stiffen, he plunged deep inside just in time to feel me tighten and explode. “That’s it, Baby. Come all over me. Fuck!”

Hearing him swear in the heat of anger when we fought was awkward and strange. But hearing him swear out of passion in bed was erotic beyond what I had words to explain. Hearing him tell me how he was going to make me come in every way he could imagine, sent me into spirals of delirium. It was utterly unchaste when he swore how good my pussy felt around him, and felt almost dangerous when he told me he was going to fill me with all the cum he'd saved for me all week. It didn't compute with the image of him celebrating mass at the front of a packed church which flickered through my mind. I quickly blew the thought out as if it were no more than a single candle. With me, Gabe was not a priest. With me he was someone the same but different, split from the self he’d always known and been to be someone more. I’d done that to him. I’d changed him. It filled me with a strange sense of power and fear. I wondered if it was how he felt that day he held me in the middle of the water. He’d called it pride. I decided it must be at least similar, as I felt quite pleased with my newly identified ability to render this previously pure man into an incoherent, lust driven animal.

I rode him hard through my orgasm and brought my legs up so he could go deeper in me, the way I knew he liked, the way we both liked. His eyes were closed, brow furrowed, and he seemed almost possessed as he drove his cock into me. I watched him for a moment, as if I’d stepped outside of myself and observed from a distance. I’d never seen either of us like this before, so powerfully powerless, completely unable to govern our needs for one another.

He threw his head back and pushed up into me, hitting my g-spot and making me squeal. A frenzied groan tumbled out of him and he repeated ramming my inner wall until I was crying out and soaking his cock with a mighty squirt. Gasping in disoriented surprise, I constricted my arms around his back as my sloppy insides constricted around his member. He seemed unfazed by the squirting cum that continued to pulse out of me as he fucked me through another climax.

“Fffuuck,” I panted and bit down on his neck until he hissed in pain.

But he didn’t stop. After that, he slowed his pace, but took me much harder than usual, and he made no apologies when it clearly became uncomfortable for me. He saw me bite my lip as I tried to back off slightly, but he didn’t stop his savage thrusts. He licked across my lips, grabbed my breast and rode me until I was certain I’d have bruises. “You’re mine,” he growled in my ear. I gave in completely then and dug my fingers into the meat of his ass as I wrapped my legs around his back. “Mine,” he said again and put my knees over his shoulders. My consecutive orgasms were painful because my cunt had swollen and was impossibly tight around his thick cock. It seemed he’d split me in two. “Do you feel me? Do you feel me fucking you, Luciana? Tell me you feel it!”

“I feel you, Gabe. I love you so much. You’re fucking me so hard and good,” I babbled, taking all he had to give me. He pushed my knees off his shoulders and wrapped his arms tightly around me. Had he always been so huge? He seemed to loom over me, larger than life itself. His mouth was next to my ear and his breath was filling my entire being as he chased and tried to catch it. He stopped thrusting for a moment and grunted softly. Stroking my face, he asked if I could come any more for him. “God, no,” I whispered.

He sighed and started to move his hips slowly, much more gently. “I’m so close,” he moaned.

“Do it.”

“I feel like I’m going to come in you for days,” he said and gave a very long, slow stroke completely out and then back into me.

“Do it, do it,” I begged. “Fill me up. I want it so bad,” I whispered in his ear, tickling his lobe with my tongue. For a moment he seemed to float on top of me. It made me think of looking up at the shadow of a ship from deep below the water. He was still, until he wasn’t. He was still until he arched back and sheathed himself in me. He cried out as he pressed his body into mine and I felt his cock spasm and release inside of me. He knocked against my overly sensitive cervix and I bit his neck hard to muffle the scream that was going to come out of me. I lathed my tongue against his skin until he finished and we relaxed in each other’s arms. Still inside of me, he dropped his head down and began suckling and licking one of my breasts. I twirled his hair around my fingers like onyx and silver rings.

At some point we realized we were both crying, but he still hadn’t pulled out.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was re reading a bunch of this thing, for the purposes of making sure I had certain things consistent and I was like, woweewowwowwowwow, there is a LOT of sex in here. Like A LOT. Is there possibly such a thing as too much sex in a story? Because honestly, you guys, I did not realize as I was writing this just how smutty I had made it, but yeah, I actually made myself blush. My sorries? eek. 
> 
> Anyhow, sorry again that I made you wait for another chapter. Life has been super impossible. Thanks for being so patient and supportive with me. I adore you. Please check in and say hi. oxoxoxoxoxoxo.

When things set to motion, they started and didn’t stop. It didn’t happen all at once, although looking back, it seems as such. In the moment, we hardly recognized the paths upon which we’d been set and so we continued walking blindly forward. In the moment, we didn’t realize life was about to twist around a series of such precarious hairpin turns as to give us emotional whiplash. It progressed slowly, strangely, like when a tidal wave is about to happen and all the water of the shoreline gets sucked way far back into the sea for miles. But once that water decides to release its pulse of destruction, it comes and comes and washes over everything for what seems like eternity. Only in hindsight could we realize the natural clues, the signs that would have seemed so blatantly obvious if only we’d known to pay attention.

After sex that Saturday morning, Gabe and I slept a few hours. We woke mid afternoon, rolled over and made gentle, sleepy love that completely contradicted the almost violent scene we’d inflicted on one another earlier. He slipped into me from behind, while we were still on our sides. He gently fondled my breasts with one hand and lightly stroked my clit with the other. It was lovely, like he knew I was sore and needed the easy touch and shallow thrusts the position allowed.

When we were done, my stomach gurgled loudly. Gabe rubbed it with his heavy hand and I said, “I’m so hungry. Can you stay if I order some takeaway?”

“I can stay all night,” he whispered into my ear with a little chuckle.

“You’re kidding!” I practically kicked him across the room and bounced up on the bed like a kid. “What about church in the morning?”

“One of the associate priests is covering for me. I have the day off. I wanted to surprise you,” he kissed my nose.

“Best surprise ever!” I squealed and grabbed my phone so we could decide on food. While I perused the online menus of local eateries, Gabe went to use the bathroom. “I can’t decide on what I want because I’m so hungry I want everything,” I said when he returned. When I looked up at him, I saw his face had hardened. Immediately an anxious pit gathered in my gut. I sat up and asked, “What? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Look at this,” he said and pointed to his neck. When we’d fucked earlier, I’d bitten him and sucked up a sizable, violet bruise.

“Oops,” I said and couldn’t help smiling as I exhaled a sigh of relief. “Gosh I thought you were having a heart attack or something. Sorry?” I shrugged.

“Sorry? Lucy, I can’t go into my parish with a giant love bite on my neck. This is more than oops.”

“ _Love bite_? What is this 1950? Seriously, don’t worry about it. Put some ice on it and it will go away in a few days.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and exhaled a frustrated breath. “I don’t think you’re taking this with nearly enough gravity. It’s actually sore to touch,” he rubbed it.

“Ummm, okay, well you should feel what it’s like in my vagina right now,” I said snappishly.

“Did I hurt you?”

“We had rough sex. It’s not the end of the world,” I shrugged.

“I don’t know what came over me,” he mumbled and rubbed his face repeatedly. “We were too rough. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. That isn’t loving.”

“Gabe, it was fucking amazing. No pun intended,” I gave him a playful slap on his arm. He looked at me from under the dark fringe of his lashes. “You were amazing. You were so hot.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Smoldering. I mean I might not be able to walk properly for a few days, but wow, Mister. You took me good and hard and I loved it. Please don’t be unhappy.”

“We have to be more careful. I don’t think my collar is going to cover this,” he stood and peered at the mark in the mirror over my dresser. “And I have the Bishop coming.”

“Good Lord, man. It will be gone long before the Bishop gets here. Please, give it a fucking rest!” I flopped back on the mattress and resumed scrolling menus on my phone. “How would you feel about Indian?”

He sat on the bed next to me, gently pushed my phone away from my gaze. “Look at me,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t _ever_ want to hurt you, Lucy. Do you understand?”

“Of course,” I said.

“You’ve had enough hurt to last a lifetime,” he stroked my cheek, pulled me into his arms, and laid back in the bed with me. “I only want to love you.”

“You do,” I said. I nuzzled my face in his chest and smelled my bath gel on his skin. “You made me feel so possessed and kept. I loved it. Couldn’t you feel me give it all up for you?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “And you were beautiful, but, Baby, love isn’t supposed to be about possession. All the things we’ve done. . . ahhh, I’ve been able to somehow wrap my head around them, even if they’ve been different, but this felt sinful, I think for that reason. I don’t want to possess you. And I don’t want to hurt you during our intimate times.”

“But what if I like it?” I tugged on his nipple and he winced. I giggled. “Come on, it can be fun.”

“It isn’t going to be fun if my secretary sees my neck and makes what would be some very reasonable assumptions.”

“Ugh, fine! Then can we resume some biting and light kink after you leave the church?” I slithered on top of him. Looking down at him, I bared my teeth and snapped them several times.

“Light kink? Oh, I see, you’re joking. You’re making a mockery of me.”

“Yes, Mister, I am,” I said. I gave the angry purple mark on his neck a tender kiss. “Forgive me?” I asked, much more sincerely.

“Anything. I forgive you, anything,” he sighed.

We ordered food and had a decent afternoon and evening. The next day we bundled up and drove to a secluded beach where we took a long walk. It was frigid, with a stiff wind, but I plucked my mitten off to pick up little shells and bits of glass in the sand by the water’s edge. I handed one particularly perfect, tiny, spiraled shell to Gabe, and he said, “It always surprises me that you’re so frightened of the sea when you’re clearly such a mermaid.” He kissed my forehead and pocketed the shell before threading his arm around me and leading me further down the shoreline.

In a little cafe, we had hot fancy cocoas and cake before he brought me back to my apartment. At one point, when he took his scarf and coat off, I caught a very clear glimpse of the hickey I’d given him. I could feel my face flush with a sense of anxious shame I couldn’t fully understand. I’d played the whole incident off so chill with him, but seeing the wound I’d made on his neck, casually exposed as we sipped hot cocoa, knowing how upset it made him, and worrying it would cause him undue grief with his staff or parishioners felt problematic.

“What are you thinking?” He asked me as he blew on his steaming drink.

I licked a blob of salted caramel off the rim of my cup and tried to smile. “Just thinking how much I love you,” I said, and it was a version of the truth.

He drove me home as the sun sank beneath the sateen, gray sky. With the engine of his car still running, he broke the news to me that he probably wouldn’t see me much for the rest of the month, as he’d be preparing for the Bishop’s visit. “It’s a big deal,” he explained. “To secure a visit from the Bishop to your parish during Advent. We have to make sure our music and readings go off without a hitch.”

I sighed. “But you’re still going to talk to him, right?”

Gabe angled his body toward mine in the car and took both of my hands. “Yes,” he smiled and looked warm and soft. “I am. But I cannot do it until after his visit, and after the service. This is something my entire parish is looking forward to; I can’t rob them of that with my own selfish desires, as much as I want to.” He pressed his thumb onto my bottom lip. “Don’t bite your lip, Lucia. If I could run away with you now, I would. I’d do it in a heartbeat! But I can’t, as much for you as for me and for my parishioners. Okay?”

I nodded. “Okay,” I said.

He suddenly grabbed me and wrapped me in his arms in an almost suffocating embrace. “God, I don’t deserve you. Thank you so much for believing in me. My love, my light.” He pressed light, little kisses on each of my eyelids, on either temple, on my forehead. I put a hand on either side of his face and noticed how my fingers got lost in the silver floss of his beard. In that moment, I loved him so much, it felt impossible, like I was being turned inside out and transformed into another version of myself. It felt huge and consuming, but in a wondrous way, like I was walking into a tunnel of magic, like I was capable of anything within the glow of his gaze. I didn’t even mind leaving him, because I carried that feeling with me, wore it like a cashmere robe all night long.

The feeling was so distracting, I completely forgot I’d wanted to give him his birthday present early, since it was likely I wouldn’t get to spend any meaningful time with him that week on the actual day. I remembered the gift the next morning, when I saw it wrapped on a shelf in my living room. I’d found an antique, sterling silver frame in one of the village shops. It had two spaces for photos. On one side, I’d popped the picture of me on the rocks in front of the daisies from New Hampshire. On the other side, I’d inserted the shot of the two of us together in the same spot. I’d also purchased several shirts, a heavy woolen sweater, and a bunch of funky socks and underwear for him, but it was the beautiful frame I was most excited to give. I remembered the almost Spartan nature of his bedroom, and I imagined him placing the photos on his bedside table.

Still in my robe, on my way to the shower to get ready for work, I grabbed my phone to text Gabe. Maybe I could drop it off at the church on the way to work, I thought with a helpless half-smile playing on my lips. I picked up my phone and saw he’d already texted.

At first I just saw his name and my smile widened.

But when I opened the notification, the actual message instantly filled my veins with ice.

_She knows._

I quickly texted back, _what??????_

I didn’t need any clarification. I knew exactly what the message meant, but I was still hoping somehow I’d read it wrong. He didn’t respond quickly. In fact, I took a shower and dressed before I saw the dancing dots that indicated he was texting a response.

_L. Saw mark. She knows._


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up my babies... and thank you so much for waiting so patiently for this update... I somehow got distracted by lesbian nuns, go figure. Love to you all, and my warmest wishes that you are all happy and healthy during this time.

_Relax. What exactly does she know?_

_Enough._

_Does she know it’s me?_

_I don’t know._

_Then she prob doesn’t know as much as she thinks she does. Relax._

It felt absurd telling Gabe to relax when I was shaking so violently I could barely hold my phone, let alone text. Hastily, I gathered my things into my work bag and headed for the door. He hadn’t texted back, so when I got to my car, I tried calling him. It went to voicemail. I couldn’t arrange my thoughts into a proper message, so I ended the call and pecked out another text.

_What’s she gonna do?_

I stared at the screen and waited for Gabe to reply for as long as it took my car to fully warm itself and for three songs to play on the radio. A DJ came on with a traffic report and I jumped at his voice. Annoyed by the racing of my heart, I jabbed at the button to shut off the radio. Looking back to my phone, I saw it was still blank. Gabe’s answer did not seem forthcoming, so I made my way to the University and found a parking space. It was a miracle I didn’t crash my car or get pulled over for erratic driving, as I distractedly checked my phone for a text from him every other second on my commute. After extricating myself from my seatbelt, I impatiently sent a line of question marks to him.

 _Dunno,_ was all he sent back.

_Well, what did she say to you??????_

_can’t talk now_

“Shit, shit, _shit!_ ” I hissed and dredged myself from my car into the chilly, damp morning. “Fucking, Linda!” Imagining her thin, coral coated lips pressed together in a tight line, her beady eyes staring at Gabe’s neck with righteous disdain, I cursed her name repeatedly.

I swung my bag onto my shoulder and marched across campus to the building where my lab and office waited for me like a beautiful refuge. My professor had left me a pile of papers to grade and there were several labs that needed prepping. I diligently set to focusing on something other than whatever was unfolding for Gabe behind the heavy doors of his church. Or at least I tried. From his paltry texts, it was impossible to know if he was mad or worried. I imagined he was probably a little of both.

It seemed so important for him to leave the church on his terms, and on a positive note, but I wondered if there as any possibility this could be a good thing? Could Linda discovering his secret, our secret, potentially make him reconsider his whole waiting-for-Christmas-and-the-bishop plan? Maybe he’d decide to just throw in the towel and come home to me then and there. _Wouldn’t that be nice,_ I thought and in a sudden change of heart couldn’t help but smile. How ironic would it be if my day ended in blessing Linda’s name, in gently extolling the simple beauty of her kitchy sweater set and khaki skirt? It was almost enough to make me giddy.

As I prepped labs and my undergraduate students filtered in, I had practically convinced myself that by the end of the day, Gabe would be on my porch wearing jeans and a grin, several suitcases at his feet. “Hey, Baby. I’m free,” he’d say and pull me into a messy kiss. Midday ticked by and he still had not texted me back. I tried not to allow any variation of the scenario of reunion on my porch I’d conjured, but it took mighty effort. I was so distracted, I didn’t even notice Tim come into my lab as a group of students left.

“Heya Luce,” at the sound of my name, I looked up. His voice was soft and his easy smile warmed a part of me that had been chilled since Gabe’s first text that morning, but I greeted him in a state of disorganized confusion. The morning’s events caused my memory to falter on his and Gabe’s bizarre and inopportune meeting over coffee in my kitchen only two days before. As he took a couple steps toward my desk, I remembered the awkward encounter with a sickening jolt that also made me remember I’d not eaten breakfast or lunch. My stomach clenched from the three cups of coffee I’d poured into it, and my skin was clammy from excess adrenaline.

“Tim, hi,” I put my phone face down on my desk and pushed it away from me like it was a little toy car on a track. My hand suddenly felt like it had nothing to do so I played with the end of my braid. “You’re spending so much time in the science department, I think they’re going to give you an honorary degree, you know?”

“Hah! Wouldn’t that be nice?” He laughed and rocked on his heels a little.

“Don’t your art students miss you, Dr. Wilson?”

“Eh, I think they can spare me for a little while. Things were quiet so I cancelled my office hours today. Anyway, I’m contemplating a midlife career change and I thought you’d make an apt tutor for, uh, whatever this is?” He pointed to a chart that outlined anatomy of various species of seahorses.

“Midlife?” I rolled my eyes. “Hardly.” While we’d never broached the subject of Tim’s exact age, he couldn’t have been much past his early thirties, if that. With his boyish looks and playful demeanor, he almost always seemed even younger than that, and I frequently found myself surprised by the depth of his knowledge on many different subjects, and his abiding wisdom. I thought of the patience with which he had cared for me when I was so out of it the other night, and I felt myself blush. “Nice outfit. I like the tie,” I said to try and get my own mind on another subject. Today, he appeared in jeans and a gray striped dress shirt with a blue tie covered in little pink sharks. The tie was loose and a bit crooked.

“Thanks, it was a gift from a student I helped get into grad school. In South Africa of all places! The tie was a nod to both my passion for the ocean and to the amazing marine life off the coast of where she’d be studying.”

“Well that was thoughtful,” I said. Over his ensemble, Tim had a slightly ratty looking, blueish-gray cardigan that he’d buttoned unevenly. I pointed at his sweater and whispered loudly, “Either you’re working on your absent minded professor routine a little too well, or we have to go back and re-learn buttons,” I reached out without thinking and fixed the buttons for him. He bent his head to watch my fingers fiddle with his clothing, and I felt his frowsy, flaxen curls tickle the top of my head.

“Gosh, thanks, but I have to admit, I came over here for more than a lesson on dressing myself,” he laughed and smoothed his hands over the front of his sweater. “Can you break for lunch?” He puled at his tie. It was an accessory he clearly wasn’t used to wearing often, but it had a charming effect. “So, lunch? I think Raffe is going to join.”

“Actually, that sounds amazing. I’m famished,” I sighed and snapped my laptop shut. We walked over to the cafeteria and I decided the day couldn’t possibly get any more strange or difficult, so I said, “Hey, thanks for hanging out with me the other night. You were super sweet to take care of me.”

“Huh,” Tim said and jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I mean you’re welcome, but it didn’t exactly seem like Father Gideon shared your same sentiment about my sweetness.”

“Yeah, about that,” I started and then shook my head and laughed. “I actually don’t have a clue what to say about that.”

“I figured as much,” Tim sighed. The last gasps of November blew his hair off his forehead and made him squint.

“Can we pretend it didn’t happen and never talk about it again? Is there any possibility your sweetness extends that far, Tim?” I begged.

“Welp, I mean, I guess? But,” He opened the door to the cafeteria for me and a strong waft of char grilled meat met us. “Are you okay, Luce?”

“Of course,” I said and put a hand on his scruffy sweater, which was surprisingly soft. I gave his arm a little squeeze and felt the firm muscle of his arm beneath. “It was not even the worst hangover I ever had.”

“I think you know that’s not what I mean,” he said. Raffe waved to us from a table in the faculty section of the cafeteria, but we paused for a moment inside the door. Tim looked down at me with his glittering eyes and seemingly perpetual smile. “At least tell me I don’t have to worry about a psychotic priest lunging out of the shadows to jealously strangle me when I least expect it,” he scoffed.

“Tim,” I sniffed out a laugh that felt much more sad than the silliness I tried to convey. “Your imagination is way too active, even for an artist. Come on, Raffe is going to blow a gasket if we make him wait any longer.” It was hard to push the thought of Gabe’s punishing thrusts and him growling You’re mine, in my ear as he fucked me the other morning, shortly after Tim’s departure. Truthfully, I was still a bit sore. Lust. Jealousy. Violence. Weren’t they all deadly sins? My own brain was not nearly vivid enough to imagine the cognitive dissonance with which Gabe wrestled as he dealt with the matter of my conspicuous love bite.

We gathered around the table and ordered an assortment of soups, salads, and sandwiches. I tried not to peek at my phone as we made small talk, but anxiety had risen in me again like an unpleasant tide. “Well, you guys,” Tim finally said. “I asked you to join me because I have some news. And it isn’t the greatest news, but I wanted us to be together.”

“Oh my god are you dying,” Raffe said and clutched his chest theatrically.

“No, Raffe. I’m not dying. It’s just, well, we didn’t get the grants.” Tim shrugged. Raffe and I stared at him speechlessly for a moment. Raffe finally spoke.

“Well, that’s shit,” he said. “But it wasn’t for lack of trying. We certainly gave it our all.”

“Of course,” Tim agreed. “And it doesn’t mean we have to stop here. Just because we didn’t get these grants doesn’t mean we have to throw in the towel. We can talk about next steps and come up with another plan.”

“Or we can help Lulu with her PhD applications now that she doesn’t have the excuse of the grant project anymore,” Raffe said with a note of hope in his voice.

“Sure,” Tim said as he dipped a fry into some ketchup. “That too!” They continued eating and chatting in what seemed like oblivious good humor. My brain split like branches of a tree, trying to find a clear question, a clear statement, a concise comment.

“Did they give us reasons why?” I finally asked. I thought of all the days and nights I neglected my writing, or half assed things because I’d been distracted or distraught by the situation with Gabe. I thought about the times I’d instantly pushed my laptop away the second my phone rang, to run to him and grab a last minute dinner. I recalled shrugging off editing so I could meet him in a secluded parking lot and make out with him in his car. Was this all my fault?

“They just said artsy science things are having too much of a moment and they are shifting their attention.” Tim shrugged.

“Fuck,” I hissed. “I knew I should have put more hard science in, but-”

“Luce, this isn’t on you. Your work- all of our work- was impeccable! It’s just how it goes. Sometimes grants don’t get approved. Really, don’t beat yourself up,” Tim said. “It’s a disappointment, but it’s not the end all.”

Raffe grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “You are brilliant and your writing is incredible,” he crooned. He smiled warmly. “And we will be seeing your name on many other projects yet to come, my Dear.”

“Thanks, guys. I’m just really surprised. I thought for sure we’d get it. I mean. . .” I felt the tears prickle at my eyes. “I’m gutted.” I sniffled. The tension of the morning had already built a wall of emotion in me and this news was the wrecking ball come to knock it down. Just as I was about to express this to the guys, a gaggle of very young students approached the table and asked to speak with Tim. They dragged him away to chat him up about something or other and I hardly noticed as I tried to choke down my tomato bisque.

“Would you look at that?” Raffe said.

“What,” I sighed, trying not to sound too peevish.

“They all adore him. And if he weren’t their professor, and if he didn’t have some firm moral standards, and if he weren’t a helplessly smitten kitten for a certain science nerd I know. . . he could have his pick of the litter,” Raffe wagged his finger at me and crossed his legs with a dramatic flair.

“Good lord, Raffe, when are you going to give it a rest,” I didn’t mean to snap at him, but I did.

“Whoa, tiger. No need for claws,” Raffe said.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized instantly and took his hand. “I’m so sorry, Raffe. It’s just been a total shit morning and I didn’t think the day could get any worse, honestly, but this grant stuff is just really fucked.”

“Babygirl, you don’t ever have to apologize to me. We’ve all been there. Why don’t you and Tim come over and have dinner with me and Frankie? We’ll have some wine, smoke a little, relax and eat a ton of whatever that gourmet hubby of mine decides to lavish on us? Hmmm?”

I was actually considering agreeing to the dinner invitation, despite the fact it was an obvious attempt at simply creating an atmosphere to get Tim and me together. The thought of being with friends in a warm, accepting environment sounded incredibly appealing. Tim finished his conversation with the girls, and headed back toward our table. Raffe continued listing potential menu options, all of which sounded amazing and tempting. But just as Tim was about to sit back down and we were about to put this plan into play, my phone buzzed.

 _Gabe calling,_ the notification said.

“Shit! I have to take this guys. I’m so sorry,” I leapt from the table with my phone. “Hey!” My heart banged a disturbingly violent rhythm as I answered.

“Hi,” Gabe sounded flat, drained of anything in his voice that made him recognizable and lifelike to me.

“Well, what’s going on?”

“It’s kind of a mess, if I’m going to be honest,” he sighed heavily. At least his heavy sigh sounded familiar.

“Gabe, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, I know. Look, I don’t want to worry you. I’ll take care of this, but we’re going to have to cool off for a while.”

“Cool off?”

“At least until after things settle down.”

“Well, what does that even mean? You haven’t even really told me what happened or what’s going on exactly.”

“Lucy,” he said and there was a noise that sounded like maybe he was rubbing his face. “I really don’t want to get into it.”

I looked around the cafeteria, trying to make my brain understand what he was saying, but it all seemed inconceivable. “You don’t want to get into it,” I hissed. Raffe and Tim were looking at me, wearing concerned expressions. “I think you owe it to me to at least let me know my fate, our fate here!”

“Okay. You’re right. We can talk a bit later. I have a busy afternoon.”

“Can you come over after work? I’d love to see you. I’ve had an awful day too. Some crap has hit the fan over here and it would be nice just to be together.”

“I, uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” His voice was so strange, for a moment I wondered if it was actually him on the other end of the line.

“Gabe?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, if you aren’t going to come to my house, then where and when can I see you? Do you want to get a late dinner?”

“No. No, I think we should play it safe and be discreet. Do you remember the little place we went after we had lunch at the Bento Box that time? Let’s meet there and we can just talk in the car for a little while, alright?”

It wasn’t really alright, but I agreed to it because I had to know what was going on. I felt like someone had filled my head with water and confetti and given it a good shake, like a snow globe. I couldn’t see through the swirls of a pretend storm to see what was real behind it all.

Gabe was already in the parking lot when I pulled into it. It was past eight and dark. He stood outside his car and when I parked, he walked around to the passenger side and got into my car. “Hey,” he said. He leaned over and kissed my cheek. There was a stiffness to it that felt confusing and unreal.

“Well this feels sort of dubious,” I said. “You gonna tell me what’s going on, or what?”

“I’m sorry, Lucy,” he began. “I know this whole day must have been really stressful and confusing for you. And the last thing I want is to hurt you.”

“I already hate where this conversation is headed,” I said, mentally planning a trip to the nearest liquor store for vodka and cigarettes.

“I know,” he said and took my hand. He squeezed it and kissed my knuckles. “You’ve been so patient with me and I know I’ve put you through a lot. You’ve loved me more than I ever thought possible.”

“Why do I sense a “but” coming?”

“Because there is,” he sighed heavily. “I have to take a break and focus on the church.”

“What?” I hissed. I was certain I hadn’t heard him correctly. I was certain all the bones were melting out of my body. I was certain none of it was real.

“I thought I could take the leap, but I’m not ready. I realized that today when I was faced with losing everything I’ve worked for my entire life. To know it could go up in smoke felt unbearable.”

“But what about me? Losing me is okay?”

“Of course not,” his voice shook. “I don’t even know how to lose you, but. . . well, it’s an impossible choice, Lucia.”

“Apparently not that impossible,” I could barely speak. “What about Christmas?” I asked, hating how like a child I sounded. He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at me. He was still holding my hand but he stared ahead out the window into the darkness. “So you’re not going to talk to the Bishop?”

“I will have to talk to him, at some point. I’ll have to make a confession and—.”

“Oh my fucking god! Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I practically screamed and tore my hand out of his. “This is insanity! This is _actual insanity_!”

“Lucy, I know the ways of the church are foreign to you. And I know it is completely hollow for me to say how sorry I am that this has to hurt you in any way. I wish so much it didn’t.”

“But, Gabe, it doesn’t have to hurt me if you just stick to the fucking plan. Talk to the Bishop and tell him you’re done with the church and be with me!” I sobbed. “Be with me! Choose me! You said you love me!”

“I do love you,” he whispered miserably. As loud and angry as my voice was, his was soft and sad.

“Then love me! Be with me!”

“I can’t,” he shook his head in a way that made it seem like it was so obvious, like he couldn’t understand how I wasn’t getting it.

“Well, what happens with us then?”

“I don’t know. I won’t ask you to wait.”

“Fuck, Gabe, fuck!” I shouted. With both my hands I shoved him. There was not enough space in the car to get leverage to hit him with any force, but I battered him as hard as I could until he grabbed my hand.

“Enough, Lucy,” he said softly. “You know that’s not going to make anything better.”

“Maybe not,” I sniffled. “Maybe it’ll make it better if I call the Bishop myself, tell him everything, tell him what a dirty little fuck doll you’ve made of me, how you’ve cum on every inch of my body, how you’ve enjoyed all my hot, wet holes! I wonder what he’d say to that, because I’m sure you won’t give him nearly enough detail to form a proper picture of who and what you really are, Gabriel Gideon!”

Gabe looked straight ahead, out the window and blinked several times. He wouldn't look at me. He took a deep breath. “Clearly we are not going to be able to continue this conversation. I am sorry I hurt you, but you know you were never those things to me, those vulgar things you’re saying. If you want to call the Bishop, I can’t stop you. You can do what you need to do, but I’d encourage you to think on what exactly you hope to accomplish by doing it, or if you ever want to see me again in any way shape or form.” With that, he got out of my car, back into his, and drove away.

It took me a full minute to recognize the screaming I heard was my own voice, crying into an abyss as I fell without any sign of a bottom coming up to meet me.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh you guys are a patient lot... I love you and hope you are still here for this wacky ride. I have missed you, but I got sort of distracted, and then I got sort of sad, and now I'm trying to finish up this bad mama jama. So, here you go.... CHAPTER 44! Please say hi in the comments.xoxoxoxoxo

December was a blur. I didn’t see or talk to Gabe at all. I went out, I worked, I fucked as many men and women as I could find, or that my body would allow. No strings attached. No feelings. I was numb. I never came. I was something carved of stone, desperate to feel but completely detached from myself. 

The first guy was in the bathroom of a club. I made sure he had a condom, then held on to the sink as he pounded into me from behind. I thought maybe there would at least be a shard of relief in the bruises on my hip bones from where I banged against the sink, but no. There was nothing. After he was done, I rolled my eyes when he asked for my number, pulled my skirt back down and walked out of the bathroom. I danced with a woman and we ended up in the coat room, making out for a while before her boyfriend came looking for her. Somebody handed me a shot of syrupy liquor that tasted like black licorice. Instantly, it made me feel dizzy and sick. I called a cab and went to June’s. I don’t remember climbing up her stairs, or climbing into bed with her, but that’s where I woke up the next morning. 

“Look what the cat dragged in,” she said. She was sitting up next to me in bed, looking down at me with a curious expression. “Been a while since you did this Lucinda.” 

“Yeah,” I grumbled. Before I could say anything else, June handed me a glass of fizzing liquid. “Oh, you fucking goddess,” I whispered and eagerly took the Alka Seltzer from her hand. 

“You gonna tell me what Father McFuckface did to you?” Her eyebrows met in the middle of her forehead. 

“Nope.” I said and handed the drained glass back to her. 

“Fair enough,” she sighed and settled down next to me in bed. She put an arm over me which felt warm and protective. I laced my fingers into hers and swallowed my tears. “You want waffles with Nutella?” 

“Fuck and yes,” I said. “But not just yet. Stay here for just another minute, okay?” 

“Yeah,” she said and nuzzled her face into the crook of my neck. “Oh Lu,” she sighed after a minute. 

“What?”

“You stink of sex and cheap lady perfume,” she whispered and started giggling uncontrollably. 

“Fuck off!” I slapped her playfully, but she didn’t let me go. 

I brought a series of guys back to my place. I always made them leave the second they finished. They couldn’t get their pants on fast enough for me. One guy tried to insist on snuggling with me and practically begged to stay the night. I screamed at him to get the fuck out. Most guys were my age. If older men even glanced at me, I scowled at them mercilessly. 

There was one older guy. He took me to a swanky hotel in the city. We had an elegant supper and he got a room upstairs. It turned out he was married, but I fucked him anyway. He had to leave after he was finished, but he told me the room was paid for and I could stay and have breakfast in the morning. After enjoying a long hot bath in the enormous tub, I treated myself to some decadent room service and a bottle of champagne. But the next morning, when I woke up alone in the king sized bed, having only slept a couple of hours, I felt cheap, whorish. I’d never hated myself so much as I did getting dressed in the clothes I’d worn the night before and walking out of that hotel in them, my head throbbing. 

It might have been what they call hitting rock bottom, but whatever it was, I didn’t like it. I returned to my apartment, and took a good hard look at the mess in which I’d been living for the past several weeks since meeting Gabe in that dark parking lot. The first thing I did was bag up all of Gabe’s stuff. It didn’t amount to much, which surprised me. He’d taken up so much of my psychic space; it seemed impossible his physical presence in my home filled little more than a tote bag. I put the bag and his guitar in my basement and made a mental note to ask June if maybe she’d drop it off at the church. I knew I couldn’t do it. 

Next on my agenda, I cleaned my apartment, and showered until my hot water ran out. Then I sent a group text to my three boys. 

Raffe and Frankie were more than thrilled to entertain Tim and me. They were born hosts who had bought a ludicrously large house on the water with specific intentions of having as many dinner parties and cocktail hours as their lives would allow. Tim picked me up and drove us there. On the drive, we listened to Christmas songs on the radio and pleasantly speculated about what feast would await us. Any conversation regarding Gabe or my love life was completely avoided, much to my relief. I’d worn a simple red sheath dress to be festive, and while I hoped Tim didn’t get the wrong impression, it actually felt good to get a little dressed up and to put on makeup and do my hair with care and pride for the first time in weeks. 

The happy couple greeted us with huge hugs and smooshy kisses on both cheeks. “Did you guys hire a professional to do your decorations?” Tim asked them, looking around in awe. 

“Oh, heavens no,” Frankie sighed. “This little woman over here has too much time on his hands since he didn’t get that grant, and he spends all of it stress decorating.” Frankie picked up Raffe’s hand and kissed his knuckles. Raffe clicked his tongue. 

“Wow,” Tim said admiringly. “I didn’t even know stress decorating is a thing.”

“Stick around,” Frankie rolled his eyes and disappeared into the kitchen to fetch appetizers. 

“So you look pretty as a little Christmas picture, Lucy,” Raffe cooed as he took my coat. “Doesn’t she look just the picture, Tim?” 

“I mean, yeah, she always looks great to me,” Tim said and I smiled so hard it hurt simply to avoid cringing at Raffe’s heavy handed attempt at matchmaking. 

Frankie came back out announcing he had “nibblies” and offered us a tray of assorted hot appetizers. The lavish holiday decorations, ten foot Christmas tree, and roaring fire in the living room made me feel like I’d stepped into a storybook. The house smelled rich and smokey, like butter cookies and roasting meat. 

“So you guys need to adopt me,” I told them as I stuffed another bacon wrapped water chestnut in my mouth and washed it down with the gourmet cocktail Raffe had designed specifically for our dinner party. “What’s in this thing anyway?”

“Mmmh, it’s a mix of Prosecco, gin, and my own proprietary mulled hibiscus cordial. I’m glad you like it and will happily top you off my maiden!” Raffe was already tipsy, singing along with carols piped through their sound system while Frankie put finishing touches on supper. 

After we ate, the four of us sat in the living room and admired the twinkling lights of the tree. Frankie had taken a seat in a luxurious, leather arm chair, upon which Raffe was perched, his arms around Frankie’s shoulders. This left the cozy couch for Tim and me, which I was certain was no accident. To my surprise, I found I didn’t mind terribly much when Tim leaned back and put his arm along the back of the sofa behind me. In fact, I cuddled a little closer and nuzzled my forehead on his chest. He smelled woodsy and fresh, like winter air racing through a forest. It grew late as we told stories and roared with laughter together. 

“Thanks so much, Raffe. I really needed this,” I said as he helped me into my coat. 

“Anytime, Lu. You know Frankie and I couldn’t love you any more if we’d given birth to you ourselves.”

“Oh my god, you’re fucking wasted,” I giggled. Raffe wrapped his arms around me and hugged me for a long moment. 

“I’m not too drunk to know he’s a really nice one,” he whispered. He winked at me as Tim and I made our way down the porch steps and I prayed no one else saw. 

On the drive home, I was quiet and sleepy. Tim talked about the gifts he was planning for his sister’s girls. He spoke of them with affection, familiarity, and good humor. It surprised me how he knew what they all liked and how he deeply considered what would make each of them happy. 

“Do you ever want kids?” I asked him.

“I mean, yeah! I love kids. So, yeah, someday, I hope,” he shrugged and smiled. We drove past a house with a light display that lit up his face with blue and silver snowflakes. 

When we pulled up in front of my house, he leaned over and kissed my cheek. I turned toward him and touched his face, felt his hair. It was so soft and slippery, it felt like cornsilk. His breath was warm and I realized his lips were really soft because all of a sudden we were kissing. We kissed for a long time, just gentle and slow and he made quiet sighs that just sounded content and calm. He only touched my face, and he did it with this reverence that was so tender and totally unhurried. When the kiss eventually ended, he pressed his forehead against mine and whispered, “Thank you.” 

“For what?” I asked. 

“I’ve dreamed of kissing you for so long, like since the first time I saw you. I’ve dreamed of it.”

“So this was a dream come true?” 

“Nah,” he shook his head, but he was still gently touching my face and neck. “This kiss was better than anything I ever could have possibly dreamed.” 

“You might actually be the sweetest guy on the planet, Tim.”

“Sweet on you, anyway,” he chuckled softly. 

“Silly,” I sighed and leaned into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and just held me soft and still. Sarah McLaughlin and the Barenaked Ladies sang God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen on the radio. “I love this one. I like the way they make it sound,” I said. 

“Yeah, me too,” Tim said. “Tidings of comfort and joy, Luce,” he murmured in my hair. I looked up at him and we were both smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ????? Thoughts????? 
> 
> Hate me?  
> Love me?  
> Screaming?  
> All of the above?  
> oxoxoxoxo


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok. . . you guys have waited soooo patiently for this chapter and I hope you are even still around to read it!!! If you are still here, thank you so so so much for sticking with this and for hanging in here with me. There are still a number of twists and turns yet to come in this work, so bear with me!! xoxoxo

For the first few weeks, it continually surprised me how easy it was to go to Tim’s place. Not only did it feel emotionally comfortable, but there was no need for secrecy or subterfuge. I could actually just show up, in broad daylight, knock on his door and not worry for a second about who saw me or what they were thinking.

I didn’t mention the novelty of this to Tim, but I did let him know how much I liked being with him at his home. While he wasn’t the grandiose entertainer Raffe was, he seemed to enjoy having me over and there was a quiet, mutual understanding that it felt good for me to be out of my own house for a while. Tim was gracious enough to not bring up the subject of Gabe, and after a while, it stopped feeling like an awkward secret I was keeping and more like just a part of my past that I didn't have to talk about. 

During our winter break, we met up at his house to watch movies and eat pizza or to work on plans for the next semester. He’d offered to help me get my PhD stuff organized, and while I still was uncertain about whether or not I even wanted to pursue it, I agreed it couldn’t hurt to get stuff in order.

Tim owned a seaside cottage not far from the University. It was surrounded by a white picket fence in need of repair, but the yard was neat and delineated by spaces where he said he grew vegetable and flower gardens in the summer. Bright red shutters framed the windows, a cheerful accent to the white house. A porch wrapped around the front of the house, from which he’d hung colorful flags that fluttered in the winter wind as I walked up and knocked on his door.

“How many times do I have to tell you to just let yourself in?” Tim grinned from ear to ear when he opened the door for me.

“I know,” I shrugged. “It just feels funny just letting myself into someone’s house.”

The moment I was inside, he folded me into a warm embrace that felt almost fluffy for the thick sweater he wore, and for the way his downy hair tickled my cheek. “I missed you,” he said and nuzzled my cheek. “Gosh you smell amazing. And you look like a million bucks.” I was only wearing leggings and an oversized sweater, but for all he cared, I just waltzed into his house in a ball gown and diamond tiara.

“And you feel like a muppet,” I laughed and gave him a playful squeeze.

“Aw! My secret is out!” He cried in mock horror. He tossed my coat on the rack near the door and led me into the living room. I dumped my bag on the floor, flopped onto his couch, and curled my legs under me. His house had the ambiance of an art festival. It was crammed with paintings and drawings he’d done, and others he’d collected over the years because he liked them. Books and framed photos of his family covered every shelf and surface that wasn’t already overtaken by art. In the corner of his living room, a wood burning stove kept a warm, cozy glow. Tim set to stoking the fire. I watched the natural ease with which he moved, the healthy flexibility and effortless strength he possessed. It wasn’t something I knew about him right away. Tim was tall and thin, but his muscles were lean and powerful from all the time he spent surfing. Despite whatever weight he could lift, he approached every aspect of his life with a gentle deliberation. I often found myself mesmerized watching him.

“It’s so toasty in here,” I murmured. “I don’t even want to work on PhD program stuff; I just want to snooze on your couch.” He sat down next to me and put an arm around me. It felt completely comfortable for me to slouch into his body, and to allow him to play with my hair.

“Well then, you have two choices,” he said.

“And they are?”

“I can make you some strong coffee and we can work, or you can have a nice little nap.” He kissed my brow when I looked up at him. His topaz blue eyes sparkled at me.

“What will you do if I nap?”

“Hmm, well, I have some paintings I’m working on,” he said.

“Oh yeah? New ones? What are they?”

“You wanna see?” He asked, clearly delighted with my interest in his work. “Now, they’re still pretty rough, but I think you’re going to like them,” he said as I followed him through the house to his studio. The room he used for his art was a sizable space on the first floor that could have been a guest room. While there seemed to be a colorful jumble to all the pots of ink, buckets of brushes, and tubes of paint, there was also a clear order to the space. With the shades and curtains pulled back, light poured in. Even before I saw his project, I couldn’t help but smile. Something about being in Tim’s home studio filled me with a bright sense of comfort and joy. He gestured to a place where he had set up three boards that might have been driftwood. Each of them had been prepared so he could use them as canvasses of sorts. And on each one, there was a beautiful octopus, striking a series of poses with willowy arms colored in dynamic reds, oranges, and golds. I gasped.

“Is that. . .?”

“Yeah, that’s our Luke,” Tim sighed.

“Wow, Tim. These are incredible. I don’t even know how to begin appreciating them. They’re just so gorgeous.”

“I had found the wood washed up on the beach one afternoon and the thought occurred to me they’d make cool surfaces for a project.”

“They do,” I breathed, gazing at the paintings from different angles and admiring the delicate details Tim had incorporated into each of Luke’s suction cups, hundreds of them! And the way he’d managed to make light filter through the water looked both real and magical.

“He’s such a special old man. Octopuses don’t live long, which I know you know, and he’s getting along in age, right? So, I kind of wanted to immortalize him in some way.” While he was explaining his process, and while I was lost in his work, he’d come up behind me and looped his arms around my waist. He kissed my cheek lightly and I leaned back against him. I liked the way under his spicy, pine needle smell there were undertones of chalk and turpentine. He had so many different layers, but somehow all of them were right there, easy to know and understand. “I was kind of hoping you’d let me immortalize you some day, Luce.”

“What?”

“I’d love to paint you. Your face is so expressive, like there’s an entire secret story inside this gorgeous head of yours.”

“Silly,” I said because I was blushing. He caressed my arms and picked up one of my hands.

“Nah, it’s not silly,” he said. “You’ve got this thing, this quality. I feel like I wouldn’t even have to paint your face. I could just paint your hand, or one of your elbows, or a lock of your hair and hang it in a museum and anyone who looked at any single part of you would easily be able to see, yeah, that is the most amazingly special woman in the universe.”

I turned around and looked up at him. His face was soft, sort of dreamy and boyish. “I’ve never met anyone like you,” I felt bewildered as I said it, as I stroked the silky column of his neck and pulled his face down to kiss me.

We’d spent significant amounts of our spare time together over the past weeks, and in that time, we’d shared kisses and snuggles that were slow and sweet. He’d never pressured me for anything more than what I readily presented, and there seemed to be a silent agreement that I was setting the pace. All our evenings ended with us returning separately to our own homes. And while I’d been to his house on a bunch of occasions, I’d never been in his bedroom, let alone his bed. Part of me had been holding back, not wanting to risk that kind of intimacy with another person who I cared about, and I’d grown to care a great deal for Tim. When he smiled now, it surprised me I ever found his teeth cartoonish, that I ever found anything about him anything other than charming and nice. He was nice. He was so nice. And suddenly, kissing him there in his studio felt almost alarmingly nice. Instinctively, I pressed into him and even through our thick sweaters, I thrilled at the feel of him, at the way he put his hand on my ass to push his arousal on my hip.

But as soon as the heat started building, Tim pulled back. Ducking his head with an awkward smile and flush that spread from his neck up to his cheeks, he exhaled and said, “I think we should stop.”

“Oh,” I said. My fingers kneaded the back of his neck. “You want to stop?”

“I don’t want to stop at all,” he chuckled, “but if we don’t, well, I’m just worried things could get carried away. I really love how things are going with you and I don’t want to rush and be foolhardy.”

His voice was little more than a whisper and aroused me to the point of dizziness. I put my hands under his sweater and worked up into his tee shirt to feel his tight abdomen and firm back. He trembled and his eyes filled mine. “I don’t want to stop,” I mouthed.

“No?”

“No, Tim. Please don’t stop,” I begged and no sooner were the words out than his mouth was on mine again, kissing me with an urgency that still contained his tender care. He kissed my neck and asked if I wanted to go to bed. “Can it be in here?” I asked and glanced at a small sofa in the corner. Immediately, he began walking me over to it, kissing me all the while.

“Anything, anywhere,” he murmured. “I’ll do anything you want.” He settled me on the couch and told me to wait there, then he dashed out of the room and dashed back a moment later. He’d turned on some music, but I could barely hear it for wanting to resume our kissing.

I practically tore him out of his clothes, but he took his time undressing me, exploring and adoring every inch of my body as he removed each article of clothing. I sat on the sofa and he kneeled between my legs. He cupped my breasts and slowly licked around each nipple until I threw my head back on the cushion and whimpered. He went down and pulled off my panties as he kissed around my navel and teased my inner thighs with his fingers. Looking back up at me, he asked if I was warm enough and I nodded with a bleary smile. “Good, because I want to savor every inch of you,” he said and slowly licked a long line through my folds. I whined and bit my lower lip, but he put a hand on my thigh and rubbed it, as if telling me to relax. I took a deep breath and laced my fingers into his while he worked his tongue into me and made lazy circles around my clit. With my other hand, I played with his golden ringlets, trying to hold myself off from exploding on his mouth. He seemed to sense I was getting close, and with a contented moan, he came back up. “You taste so good and I could do that all day, but I wanna feel you come all around me. Is that okay?” He stroked my face gently and I told him yes. He reached around and obtained a condom, which I realized must have been his reason for running out of the room earlier. His fingers shook as he worked to get it out of the little package.

“You don’t need that,” I said. He looked deep into my eyes.

“Okay, but is it okay if I use it? It’s just we haven’t talked about, you know,” he shrugged and trailed off.

“Oh, of course,” I said and wrapped my arms around him. He felt smooth and warm. I reached down to stroke him to a full erection while we kissed. He felt long and marble hard in my hand. I caught myself thinking he wasn’t as thick as Gabe and quickly banished that thought as he rolled the condom over himself and pulled me forward to the edge of the couch. He spread my legs and pressed his cock at my entrance. Kissing me deeply, he entered me with the same languid ease with which he did everything. I clenched my muscles around him and watched pure pleasure wash over his features. He smiled and moved slowly in me like he had all the time in the world.

It was like making love inside a kaleidoscope. Looking around at all of his art supplies and the colorful works on his walls dazzled my vision as he worked his way into my body and we figured out how it felt nice. He was gentle and pleased me effortlessly by keeping a slow, steady rhythm of circular thrusts. He made me come in an endless spiral of pulsating heat so I wasn’t sure if I was having one climax after another, or if it was just one really long, unbelievable orgasm. After he was sure I finished (or maybe I was still just starting to come, I couldn’t even tell) he lifted me up onto the sofa. “Is this okay?” He asked as he got on top, although he was still inside of me. I was surprised that I couldn’t speak, could only smile and nod. “Good, yeah,” he sighed and wrapped his arms around my back and continued fucking me deep, but only slightly faster. I wrapped my legs around him and let my body follow his, hoping I somehow felt as good to him as he did to me. When he came, he moaned and then laughed softly against my neck.

“You’re laughing?” I asked.

“Only cuz you’re so good. Oh, wow, Luce you feel so incredible. Wow.” He kissed my lips and stroked my face and then rested his head on my breast. “Your heart is racing,” he observed.

“Well you just made me come for like an hour, so. . . I may need a few minutes to just lie here and catch my breath,” I giggled. My fingers tangled into his hair and scratched his scalp.

He wiggled happily against me. “I could hold you all day and all night like this, but we’d never get your work done,” he murmured.

“Ugh,” I groaned. “Is it terrible I don’t care about that? Is it so wrong I don’t even want to do that program right now?”

“Nope,” he sighed. “Cuz that would mean I’m terrible for selfishly wanting to keep you right where you are.”

I wasn’t certain if he meant he wanted to keep me there on the couch in his studio for the afternoon, or if he meant he wanted to keep me local and near to him rather than allow a program to take me far away. Either way, it didn’t feel selfish at all for him to want those things and a part of me shined as brightly as one of his palates knowing that he wanted me there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ROLL CALL!!! Who's still with me??? Thoughts? xoxoxoxox!


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys all rule my freaking world. I love you and your comments so so so much!!! You have always been so fun to write for and I'm really happy to be back writing for you again!!! So, here is another chapter! xoxoxo

Much later that night, I realized I’d not only managed to have my first sexual encounter in months and not think of Gabe, but I also did not feel completely devastated and dirty while it was happening. And afterwards, I didn’t immediately want to escape and shove Tim away from me. We snuggled on his couch until we got chilly, then we went out for dinner. For the first time, he brought me back to his place and I stayed the night. Even though I woke frequently throughout the night and contemplated what had happened, it didn’t feel fraught. I was able to settle in his arms and snooze on and off in a strange harmony.

Over the next few days and weeks, I pondered this shift. Although the situation with Tim seemed casual, it didn’t seem desolate or dark like my trysts in December had felt. On the contrary, being with Tim felt great. Aside from the stunning feelings he managed to elicit from me physically, there was a comfort and ease with him. For the first time since things had started to deteriorate with Gabe, I felt safe. Tim’s appreciation of me was obvious in everything he did; he held nothing back. I was clearly the only woman he was dating or sleeping with, and he lavished affection on me in ways that felt warm and natural. We didn’t set anything in stone, but I quietly let him know he was the only guy I was seeing and I tried to reciprocate his gestures of kindness with motions of my own.

When Raffe and Frankie found out Tim and I were seeing one another, they were overjoyed. “You didn’t hear it from me, but Frankie bought some bridal magazines. Have you considered an autumn wedding?”

“Holy shit, Ray! Hush,” I gasped and slapped his arm playfully. We were in the cafeteria. Tim had been called over to talk to a pair of very doe-eyed female students, and a male student with a rainbow mohawk who was so clearly flirting with Tim. “Would you look at this? It’s like watching a car crash,” I hissed.

“I know, right? The man clearly doesn’t have a gay bone in his body. Speaking of bones. . .” Raffe waggled his eyebrows at me.

“A lady never tells,” I said with a wink. I nibbled a grilled cheese sandwich and couldn’t tear my gaze from Tim and the students. One of the young women opened a sketch book and showed something to Tim. He considered what he was looking at, nodded, pointed and made what looked what might be some creative suggestions. The entire time he was being fawned over by these kids, he was completely gracious, poised, and professional.

“You should go over and start making out with him,” Raffe suggested. I rolled my eyes. “On second thought, that man has only had eyes for you for as long as I have known both of you and it would take a force of nature and not just a couple of dewy undergrads to distract him.”

“He’s quite a surprise,” I said, surprised to find myself blushing. “Do you ever think someone is just too nice for you?”

“Ummm, no. I personally believe I deserve all the nice things and then some. And you do too, Lucy. Tim isn’t any better or any worse than anyone else. He’s just right for you, if you ask me.”

“I don’t know,” I mused. “It’s just he’s so thoughtful, like all the time. He made me a package of snacks for the week so I wouldn’t get cranky from low blood sugar. Who does that?”

“Someone who cares about you?”

“Yeah, but. . . I don’t know. Is it weird?” I turned from watching the kids flirt with Tim to look at Raffe.

“Are you asking is it weird someone would do something thoughtful for you, or that someone would actually care about you?” He had an expression of paternal concern that made my stomach flutter with anxiety. I put my sandwich back on my plate.

“Both?” I sighed with a shrug. “I feel like I don’t know how to compete with that level of niceness sometimes. It’s intimidating.”

“Oh, Honey,” Raffe said and patted my hand. “Relationships aren’t a competition, and love isn’t meant to intimidate. You just haven’t been treated nice by the right folks. But that guy over there? He’s the right folks.”

“Huh,” I said. “Who made you so wise all of a sudden?”

“Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. And please don’t fuck this up,” Raffe said. “Frankie and I can’t go through a custody battle for either one of you.”

“Pressure a girl much?” I asked. “Anyway, it’s nothing serious at the moment. We’re just having a good time.”

“Really? 'A good time.' Uh huh." Raffe made obnoxious air quotes. "Does Tim know that’s all it is?” Raffe stole one of my fries.

“Uhh, yeah? I mean, I think so? We haven’t really discussed formalities.”

“Well, you might want to discuss _formalities_ , as you call them, because the man is clearly picking out china patterns and baby names.”

“China patterns?” I groaned.

“What are you two gossiping about?” Tim came back to our table and sat down, but not before he gave my shoulder a warm squeeze and dropped a kiss on the top of my head. I heard a dramatic gasp behind me and didn’t have to look to know it was the rainbow mohawk kid.

“Just admiring the diversity of your fan base,” I said and we all laughed. I leaned in and added, “I can feel the boy with the colorful hair staring daggers into me,” in a saucy whisper.

To his credit, Tim blushed and shook his head as he reached for his coffee. “I can’t take you two anywhere, can I?”

“Not really,” Raffe said.

“Nope,” I agreed.

“Well, changing the subject, a little birdie tells me that _someone_ has a birthday coming up in a couple weeks,” Tim said and glanced at me.

“Ugh,” I said. “June told you didn’t she?” The third week of February did indeed bring my birthday, which I’d never been too keen on celebrating. Most years June and I just went out for margaritas and got baked in front of a cult classic before passing out in her bed. Last year had been Heathers.

“She did indeed,” Tim said. “I was thinking we should do something special and fun. I know you a little better than to throw you a surprise party, but how would you feel about just a few of us getting together and celebrating you, Luce?”

“Oooh, we could do a Valentine theme at our house,” Raffe offered with wide eyes. He was already texting Frankie.

“I guess that would be okay,” I reluctantly agreed, “but only because you get major points for knowing not to surprise me with any party shit.”

“Yeah, definitely know you a little better than that,” he smiled and reached for my hand under the table.

When I told June about Tim’s intention to give me a birthday party, she was beside herself. “Awww! Look at him getting all sentimental about your birthday. He’s such a family man!” She cried and bounced on her heels like a little kid. “Oh, speaking of which, do you think he’ll invite his parents so you can meet them?”

“At my birthday? Fucking hell, June! I hope not!” It was one thing to be happily enjoying sex several times a day with the guy, it was another thing entirely to think about meeting his parents. The mention of his parents made me remember when Tim had met Gabe at the aquarium. “His parents go to the church. Did I tell you?”

“Huh? What church?” June was distracted by some glass beads she was sorting into different compartments of a plastic box.

“ _The church_ , June. Gabe’s church.” As if there was another church.

“Oh. Shit.” June looked up from her beads. “That’s an interesting twist. Have you heard from him?”

“Gabe? No.” I hadn’t heard a single word from Gabe. I’d left the bags of his stuff on my porch one morning and shot him a text asking him to pick them up while I was at work. He didn’t respond to the text, but when I got home, his stuff was gone, so I figured he’d come and taken it. If I really stopped and thought about it, it seemed utterly bizarre that this person who’d consumed my entire life for months was suddenly completely absent from it. If I really stopped and thought about it, it seemed impossible that I’d honestly believed he was going to make a life with me. I tried really hard not to think about it because when I did think about it, I felt so utterly foolish.

Deep down, my love for him had not gone anywhere. It had just calcified in my heart and caused jagged scars on my soul. There were times if I moved a certain way, I could feel him inside of me and it hurt. So I learned to keep moving forward by keeping all the memories in shadowy spaces, and trying not to dwell on what didn’t happen.

Tim was a wonderful distraction. I started spending so many nights at his house that it felt strange to sleep in my own bed by myself. There were some mornings we even commuted to work together, but he seemed content to just let the situation between us play out without any labels or expectations. He was fun to be with. He was thoughtful. He was kind. He was all of the things that thrilled my friends because he was the first nice guy I’d allowed anywhere near me.

Deep down, I guess I must have known he was in love with me, but I wasn’t ready to face it. I just wanted to have fun and to feel free and cared for. And it wasn’t like Tim wasn’t getting anything out of our arrangement, whatever it was. At the very least, he wasn’t complaining.

“Lulee?” June interrupted my daze.

“Hmm?”

“Pass me those needle nose pliers?” She pointed to a small tool on the table near my elbow. I picked them up and handed them to her. “I swear I could rule the world with a pair of these things,” she mumbled as she used them to manipulate some wire. I figured we were done talking about Tim, Gabe, the party. I was about to suggest dinner when she looked up at me with a sudden and intensely piercing stare. “You deserve your happy ending, you know?”

“Aw, thanks Juney.”

“Nah, Lunabee, I mean that with my entire heart and soul.” She shook her pliers at me and went back to what she was doing. “I’m thinking Greek tonight, what do you think? I haven’t had that lemon orzo soup from that place downtown in like forever. You want?”

I swear sometimes that girl could read my fucking mind.


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up my loves... this chapter is just a tad bouncy.

The weekend of my birthday drew near. My friends were enchanted with excitement. I thought they liked having my birthday as an excuse to throw a party more than the actual fact I was born, but either way, the event grew from an intimate gathering to one of Raffe and Frankie’s massive dos. I was cheerfully helpless to do anything but go with the flow. They refused to let me do anything to help, and wouldn’t share any details with me. The only thing on which they asked my opinion was the cake. I told them I didn’t really have an opinion. June and I usually got a grocery store birthday cake and ate it off the plastic platter between us. When I told him this, Raffe performed on of his gymnastic eye rolls, patted me on the arm, and assured me he’d take care of everything. “Everything,” he whispered dramatically again just to make sure I got his message, which I did. 

June insisted we acquire new and obscene outfits. I begrudgingly agreed, although I was pretty certain I’d be on the arm of Tim in one of his scruffy sweaters and a pair of jeans since we’d managed to talk Raffe out of making the event black tie. We made a fun afternoon of lunch and shopping in the village. There were a couple upscale boutiques, one of which served us champagne, as we tried on an endless array of dresses. In the end, June convinced me to forego the simple black slip dress in favor of a sequin covered, rose gold shift. It was super short and showed an alarming amount of cleavage, despite the fact it had long, flowing sleeves. 

“I’ve never seen your eyes look as fucking purple as they do in that color,” June whistled. She turned to the older woman assisting us as I posed in the three way mirror. “Doesn’t she look hot as fuck?” The woman smiled uncomfortably and muttered something about looking lovely. 

“I dunno June. I literally feel like my ass is hanging out,” I said as the attendant quietly took her leave and June tossed back another glass of champagne. 

“As it should, Lula. As it fucking should. What’s the point of having an ass if it can’t proudly hang out of skimpy clothes?” She made me laugh so hard I snorted. 

“And do I really want my eyes to look purple?”

“Um, yeah ya do. Ya fucken do,” she scowled at me like I was insane. I probably only agreed to purchase it because I was tipsy from the champagne on top of the wine we had at lunch. June chose an emerald green, velvet jumpsuit that fit her like a glove and left little to the imagination. When I commented as much, she grinned and announced she’d secured Claudia as her date. 

“Mazel tov!” I cried and we both jumped up and down and hugged. The shop associates shot us withering looks from their post at the cash register which just made us giggle. “I’m so happy my birthday is bringing so much joy to literally everyone this year!” 

“You’ve fucking gone and blessed us all!” June practically shouted. I think everyone in the store was relieved when we paid for our outfits and left their establishment. 

On the evening of the actual party, June came to my house to get ready, as she usually did before any night out. We drank a conservative amount of celebratory champagne and smoked one small bowl. While I wanted to have fun, I was determined not to get so wasted that Tim had to witness me crying and puking. I gave myself dark, smokey eyes and glossy lips, and left my hair down in long waves. I was satisfied with my appearance until I put on my dress and then I had instant regret and panic.

“June! What the actual fuck was I thinking buying this?” I cried. 

“What are you talking about? You look amazeballs.” June said, glancing up from the third coat of vampy red she was painting on her lips. 

“It’s so short! My ass is totally on display. I feel very exposed!”

“Have we not been over this, Lunar Eclipse? Because I’m pretty certain we have been over this ad infinitum. Your ass is glorious. It exists to be exposed.” June put down the lipstick and gave my behind a resounding whack. “Yeah, baby! Have another drink!” 

Laughing, I had a few more sips of champagne and felt slightly better. June certainly had a way of relaxing me, especially when there were illicit substances involved. June turned on Sublime and we danced around to our favorite song, Caress Me Down. Music blasting, we lost track of time. 

“This is the stupidest thing to be having a huge birthday bash like this,” I commented breathlessly. “It’s not even a big birthday this year.”

“Doesn’t matter. We just all love you big, Baby!” June made fishy kissy lips at me and with all her makeup, she looked like an amazing doll. I’d been lulled into festive happiness, but when I went to put on my stockings, I ripped a hole in them instantly. 

“Shit!” I yelped. “Do you have an extra pair with you?” I asked June. She didn’t. Heaving a relieved sigh, I resolved to put another outfit. 

“Oh no ya don’t,” June snapped. She suggested we dash to the drug store to buy a new pair. “Tim is going to be here to pick us up any minute,” I huffed. He was dropping June at Claudia’s house on our way to Raffe and Frankie’s. Flustered, I looked at my watch and whimpered about the tight time constraints and how it was bad form to be late to your own party. 

“Fetch your bag and we’ll text Timmy boy and just tell him to meet us at the Pharma. Problem solved!” She grinned. She grabbed her keys and threw me my coat. My legs still bare, I slipped into my heels and wrapped my coat around me. We dashed to the closest pharmacy and wobbled into the aisle with pantyhose. After securing my purchase, we made our way back outside, giggling at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“I can’t wait to get these stockings on. This dress is short and my lady bits are freezing!”

“Okay, but I need a smoke while we wait for Tim. I’ll drive myself to pick up Claud,” June said and paused to light a cigarette. She offered me a drag and I looked down to take the cigarette from her fingers as she passed it to me. 

“It’s a damn good thing I splurged on that Brazilian wax. I feel like if I leaned over even slightly, you’d see it all,” I muttered. “And this fabric is so thin, my pubes would poke right through it!” When I looked back up, a shadowy figure walked straight into me. 

“Gabe,” I choked and exhaled smoke on his black wool coat. I quickly handed the cigarette back to June who took a few steps away. 

“Hello, Lucy,” Gabe said. He coughed lightly from the smoke, but his lips curved up in a slight smile. We stood in awkward silence for what seemed a long time, but was probably only a few seconds, during which I wondered if he was formulating a question about my lady bits and pubes, which he undoubtably overheard. Finally he said, “You’re looking well. Very fancy. I almost didn’t recognize you.” Of course he didn’t recognize me. I looked like a high end hooker. I barely recognized myself. 

“Oh, this,” I looked down at the sparkly, barely-there dress. My mouth went bone dry at the same time all the blood in my body seemed to rush to my head. “It’s my birthday. My, friends are throwing me a party.” Shivering, I hugged my coat around my body. I couldn’t tell if I was boiling or freezing. 

“Ah. I see,” he nodded. I didn’t know where to look. My eyes darted everywhere and settled on the white square of his collar. His beard was neatly trimmed. He looked as though he’d just had a hair cut. My brain catalogued these random facts in very short sentences. “Happy birthday. If I remember correctly, the actual day isn’t until Tuesday?” 

“Yeah. That’s right,” I whispered. June cleared her throat to get my attention. When I looked in her direction, I saw Tim’s car pulling into the parking lot. “I’ve gotta go,” I gestured toward June and shrugged, trying to appear calm while mentally I was screaming a litany of profanities. 

“Sure, right,” he said. His voice felt like someone shoved velvet in my ear. “I hope you have a nice time at your party. I was thinking about your birthday and didn’t know if I should call or send a card. It wasn’t that I didn’t think of it, or didn’t want to, I just, well, I thought not. . . after everything. I didn’t want to upset you or make things worse.” He shrugged and jammed his hands in his coat pockets. 

“Uh huh,” I mumbled. He looked like he was going to say more, or like he wanted to say more. Just a short time ago, I would have given anything for Gabe’s attention, even in a frigid parking lot, but now was not that time. Silently I begged him to stop talking. I heard a car door open and close and I heard Tim greet June, but I couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying. In desperation, I glanced toward them. Tim was walking toward me. I couldn’t feel my face. My entire body felt like a block of solid ice. 

“Hey Luce!” Tim called cheerfully. “Where’s my birthday girl?” 

Internally, I felt my stomach lurch. I took a step toward Tim, but not fast enough to get away from Gabe before Tim reached me. Tim put his arm around me before he realized to whom I was speaking. When he saw Gabe, his face froze in its smile, but his eyes hardened slightly. “Hey man, uh, Father,” he said to Gabe. “How’s it going.” He extended his hand and Gabe shook it politely. His arm around me felt protective, but not possessive. “You must be freezing, Luce. Let’s get you warmed up?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I tried to make my face form a smile in Tim’s direction. “Um, bye, Gabe,” I stuttered and Tim led me to his car. June had already left to pick up Claudia. I made a mental note to destroy her later for abandoning me. Tim opened my door and helped me in. It was already warm inside his car. It smelled like his woodsy deodorant, his lavender shampoo, and the spicy oil he sometimes wore. When he got into the driver’s side he turned to me and took my hand. 

“You okay?” He asked. I nodded. He cranked the heat. I took the stockings I’d bought out of the bag and slipped off my shoes. “There are no words for how beautiful you look tonight,” he said and put a warm hand on my bare thigh. I suddenly realized he was dressed in a dark gray suit and tie, the pattern of which I couldn’t quite discern in the dark of his car. 

“You look pretty nice yourself,” I managed. He worked his hand up my thigh under my dress. He didn’t have far to go before he was in very close proximity to my panties. I wiggled against his hand. Grabbing his tie, I pulled him to me and kissed him. I put my hand on the side of his face. He’d just shaved and his skin was silky soft. We both moaned into the kiss and giggled a little, then he parted from me. 

“Easy there, Tiger,” he said. “We don’t want you to be late for your own party, do we?”

“Mmmmh, I suppose not, but I fully intend to resume that later,” I said. As we pulled out of the lot, I noticed Gabe getting back into his car. He was watching us drive away. In the dark, I couldn’t tell if we had made eye contact through the glass of the car window, but it felt like we did and something inside of me fluttered like a wild bird. I couldn’t help but wonder if Gabe had seen Tim kissing me and what his assumptions had been when Tim came up and put his arm around me. 

On the drive, I studied Tim to discern if he was upset in any way by seeing me with Gabe. If he was, I couldn’t tell. My brain tried to rationalize that there was really no reason for him to be upset since it was a completely accidental encounter. It wasn’t like I had planned to run into Gabe. Should I tell Tim? Should I explain? Did I even owe him an explanation? It wasn’t like I was Tim’s private property, and he wasn’t asking for an explanation. Anyway, he didn’t seem particularly fazed by it. He seemed more concerned with making sure I was warm and comfortable as I squirmed my way into my pantyhose. 

Raffe and Frankie’s circular drive was already crowded with cars when we arrived. “How many of these people am I actually going to even know?” I wondered aloud as we took to the porch. When we entered the front door, a rambunctious whoop went up in the crowd that was there, and then a staggered shout of “Happy Birthday Lucy!” I blushed furiously as I handed my coat to Frankie and hugged Raffe. “You said a small party,” I laughed. 

“Frankie got a little carried away. Can you blame us? You’re our baby girl!” Raffe said. He took me on a tour around the lavishly decorated rooms, introducing me to random people as his and Frankie’s “adopted daughter.” He’d curated a special cocktail with ginger, pear vodka, and champagne, and Frankie had made an endless supply of tenderloin. They gave me a massive cake from the most elaborate bakery in the village that was practically as ornate as a wedding cake, but certainly more delicious. And out on their porch, under an array of heat lamps, they’d set up a dance floor with a DJ. 

“You oughta have birthdays more often,” June said over the din of the music. “This is lit.” She was sweaty from dancing. 

“You’re lucky your cute and I’m buzzed or I would kill you for deserting me in that parking lot,” I laughed. 

“Yeah, what the fuck was that?” She dragged me toward the dance floor where Claudia beckoned for her. 

“It was a shit show, that’s what it was,” I said, but as we started dancing, I was having too much fun to dwell on the awkward situation earlier that evening. June and Claudia were grinding happily on one another and sucking face as they danced. In a weird way, it was sort of enchanting. I’d honestly never seen June so carelessly happy. Even after all these years of knowing my best friend, it was wild to see her in this different light. Maybe I was entranced by the music or by watching June and Claudia, or maybe it was all the cocktails I’d consumed, but Tim completely surprised me when he came up behind me on the dance floor just as the DJ started to play something slow. He swept me into his arms, twirled, and dipped me. 

“You are the most gorgeous girl here, Luce,” he said. His cheeks were flushed and he’d slurred his words slightly. 

“And I think this is the first time ever that I’ve seen you under the influence, Dr. Wilson,” I laughed and we shared a sloppy kiss. 

“No, I mean it. You steal my heart,” he whispered and his breath tickled my neck. 

“Tim, I’ve never had a party like this before. I’ve never even wanted to celebrate my birthday. This is nothing short of miraculous and I know you were behind it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he nipped my earlobe. “But you have to know by now I would do anything for you. You know that, don’t you?” We stopped dancing and he looked down into my eyes. The whole world went soft for the way he looked at me. 

“I think I do know it,” I murmured. 

We escaped the dance floor and found an empty guest room. I pushed him down on the bed, and in a drunken flurry, we managed to rid ourselves of our party clothes. I knew what I wanted, so I climbed on top and rode him vigorously. I started touching myself, but he pushed my hand away. He licked his fingers to wet them and stroked me while I wiggled and clenched around him. We’d not bothered to turn any lights on, and the room was quite dark. 

“You feel unreal!” He panted. “Umfff, you’re so good. I’m not gonna last long unless you slow down.” Tim didn’t usually talk much during sex and to hear him do it now excited me.

“No, I’m there! Keep touching, oh, like that, yeah!” I moaned and rocked my hips over him. The party was still noisy, so neither of us were concerned with keeping our exertions quiet. Suddenly, and without warning, I imagined Gabe watching us. I pictured him sitting quietly in a chair on the other side of the room, legs crossed, hands folded on his lap, watching sedately as Tim and I fucked madly at my birthday party. “Oh god, oh shit, oh fuck!” I yelped and climaxed as I pounded onto Tim’s lovely cock over and over again. He came soon after and I collapsed on top of him, giggling and nuzzling his neck. 

“Oh, damn Luce,” Tim said and pushed me away. “I really must be drunk.”

“What? What’s wrong?” 

“I’m sorry. I forgot a condom. Damn! I knew it felt too good. I mean you always feel good, but that was like, oh wow,” he said. In the dark, I saw how worried his face looked. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” I pulled him back into my arms. “I’m protected. I have this implant thing. It’s all good. I won’t get pregnant.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry. You can enjoy it like that all the time. It feels nicer for me too.”

“Alright, it’s just. . . well, I’m not so much worried about pregnancy. I mean, I’d do right by you and there’s nothing more I’d ever dream of than to have a family with you, but it’s more about just general health. We never really talked about who we’d been with before.” 

“I see,” I said and was disappointed to hear myself echo Gabe. “Well, I’ve been with a bunch of people. I’m not exactly proud of my body count. But I’ve always used protection- condoms- if I haven’t been in a committed relationship, which I haven’t been for quite some time. So, it’s been many years of very, heavily protected sex.” It was mostly the truth. Gabe had been a virgin before I was with him, and there was no way I caught an STI from him, so he wasn’t worth mentioning in my opinion. At least not just then. “But if it makes you feel better, I will go to the doctor and get the full test spectrum.”

“You’d do that? For me?” Tim asked. 

“Sure. I’m due for a visit anyway.” I said. “What about you?” 

“Honestly? I was in a long term relationship that ended a while back. Since her, I haven’t been with anyone in two years.”

“No,” I gasped. “That can’t be true. I’ve seen the way women look at you. Flirt with you.”

“It’s true,” he whispered. He pulled the covers on the bed up over us and we snuggled into one another. “As it happens, these past couple years, I was sort of saving myself for someone.” 

I didn’t know how to respond to that. It was hopelessly sweet, just like everything else about him. “You are so special, Tim. I don’t think I could have possibly done anything in this life to deserve someone like you.”

“Oh, Luce. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You’d love yourself just as dearly and as deeply and as endlessly as I do.” He kissed my lips, my cheeks, the tip of my nose. 

I definitely didn’t know how to respond to him saying he loved me, so I was quiet. I gave him a squeeze. He wasn’t sober, maybe he didn’t mean it. A while later, we dressed and went back out to the party. We drank strong coffee and drifted off into little pods to chat with friends as things wound down. For the whole rest of the night, I found myself praying Tim didn’t mean what he’d said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm truly overjoyed to be back in the flow of writing this work and connecting with you all once again. Your comments make my days so much better and brighter and I'm so very grateful to have you here with me. Thank you. xoxo.


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told a couple of my infamous readers in comments that I felt like the snake in the Jungle Book with the hypnotic googly eyes, singing "Trussstt in meeeee, jusssttt in meeeeee. . ." every time I post a chapter now. Apparently people do not trust cartoon snakes very much, LOL. But I hope that you will continue reading and enjoy the ride. Some people like roller coasters, right? xoxoxo, Scar.

Two weeks passed. Tim didn’t say he loved me again, and we didn’t talk about his saying it in the first place. I lulled myself into thinking maybe I’d heard him wrong. Maybe we’d both been drunk. Maybe he forgot. Maybe he didn’t really mean it, or he realized by the light of day he felt something different. Either way, it relieved me not to have to deal with it.

I went to my doctor and got a spotless bill of health. When all my lab work came back, she called to let me know. She’d caught me at office hours, but I didn’t have any students scheduled. I closed the office door and asked her to send me a copy “for my records.” She agreed but didn’t immediately end the call. I heard her click some keys on her computer. “Is something wrong,” I asked.

“No, nothing to worry about. I was just wondering when you got your birth control implant inserted. I know it’s what you’re using for protection, I just can’t for the life of me remember putting it in you.”

“That’s because you didn’t,” I chuckled. “I had it done at a clinic a while ago before I started coming to your practice.”

“Okay,” she said slowly like she was reading something in my chart. “And how long has that particular one been in place?”

“Ummm,” I did some mental calculations. “Well I got the first one during my senior year of undergrad and I had it swapped out a few years later for a new one. This one I think I’ve had in since shortly after my grandmother died, so maybe like three years? Sorry, you probably didn’t need to know all of that,” I babbled. For some reason, my heart was racing and my hands were clammy. Talking about my reproductive health always made me a nervous wreck.

“It’s okay,” my doctor said gently. “But we are going to want to set up an appointment sooner rather than later to put in a new one for you, if that’s the primary method of birth control you want to continue to use.”

“I guess it’s okay. I like not having to think too much about it to be honest.”

“Yup, that’s one reason it’s become increasingly popular!” My doctor agreed. “And if you are only with one partner, or practicing safe sex in other ways, then you should be good to go.” We scheduled the appointment and I put the date and time into the calendar on my phone.

As I walked across campus to meet Tim for coffee, I considered my past year of sexual activity. In the short time I’d been with Gabe, I’d had more sex than in the past five years combined. While it was true I’d dated and slept with a handful of people prior to Gabe, it was also true that after Rick, I hadn’t had much interest or desire to share my body with others. I initially got the implant form of birth control, not so much because I wanted to have tons of sex, but because I was utterly terrified of falling pregnant again.

Rick had used my body viciously. Before him, I’d enjoyed my sexuality, or at least I thought I had. As I’d shared with Gabe, I’d started young, but sex had been something that was fun and felt great. It was a way to escape thinking about my circumstances, about not having family beside my grandmother, about basically being rejected by my mother after I’d discovered my dead dad. It was like when I merged with another, the physical pleasure created in our connection, took me out of my own body for a short time. I loved feeling wanted and even appreciated for how I managed to make others feel. Looking back on it, I wondered if it was healthy or if it was some maladaptive coping strategy I’d employed to avoid reality. Not like I could do much about it; I was only a kid. I was trying to make better choices now, wasn't I? That little burst of promiscuity I'd had in December felt like it happened to someone else in another life.

Rick stole any comfort of joy I felt in myself. For years after him, I didn’t want to be touched sexually. Hell, I hardly wanted to be looked at. But then I wandered into Gabe’s world and everything changed. He’d wrapped me in his endlessly warm and luxurious blanket of adoration, or what he called unconditional love. He'd even almost convinced me it was within my reach. 

As the last cold breaths of February swirled around my face, moments of the months I’d spent with him flashed through my mind. It was like I was watching myself as someone else in my head. Him holding me in the water. Me going down on my knees in front of him in the confessional. Him looking at me sitting on the rock in front of the daisies. Me opening myself up, bit by bit, and him holding all of it until I didn’t feel scared or uncertain anymore. Then things changed. I tried to track back over all the moments, but all I could feel was the stabbing agony in my chest that I’d feel every time he left me and I thought I would never see him again. Every time I thought I caught a single moment or event that altered our course, I got all muddled as if my head filled up with muddy water.

I’d almost reached the campus cafe and tried to refocus. The ease with which I’d settled into a comfortable routine with Tim was surprising, but not unpleasant. It struck me that I’d never have connected with Tim had it not been for Gabe. It wasn’t just that Tim was a transitional distraction born from loss and loneliness. Had Gabe not illuminated the possibility of feeling safety within the confines of physical intimacy, I probably never would have even considered opening myself to Tim.

“Hey there, Gorgeous,” Tim opened the cafe door so I could enter. The warm aroma of coffee and cinnamon buns instantly surrounded me, as did Tim’s arms. “Oh, you’re cold! Your cheeks are practically windburned.” He pressed his warm, soft cheek against mine.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay,” I murmured. “But I’m not sure you will be if any of your jealous students see you cuddling with me.”

“Aw, there’s nothing wrong with a chaste hug between professional colleagues,” he said, then whispered, “although what you did to me this morning was absolutely not chaste or professional. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

“I shall bear that in mind, Dr. Wilson,” I winked. He chuckled softly and asked what I’d like to drink. While he went to wait in line and order our beverages, I found a little table in a quiet corner. Shrugging out of my heavy coat, I got comfortable and watched Tim be adorably charming and politely friendly as he ordered and waited. The scene was interrupted by the buzz of my cell phone, which I dug out of my bag.

There was no name, because I’d deleted his contact information, but I recognized the number.

I didn’t think, I just reacted.

“Hello?”

“Lucy,” his voice swarmed through me like bees dripping with honey on a hot July afternoon. “It’s me, uh, Gabe.”

“Yeah,” I could barely breathe. The bees stung my heart. Searing pain and scalding heat shocked me, stole all my other senses.

“How are you?”

“Fine?”

“Good. Good. That’s good to hear. Look, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be calling.” He paused and I imagined him pushing his glasses up on his nose and sucking on his lower lip. “But I can’t stop thinking about you. Since I saw you two weeks ago, there hasn’t been a single moment when you haven’t been at the front of my mind. I held off as long as I could.” He sighed heavily. I heard the breeze of his breath waft over the receiver of his phone. “Hello? Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” I repeated the single syllable, as if I’d never bothered to learn another word in my life.

“Oh, okay, good. You were so quiet. I didn’t know if you’d hung up on me.”

“No. I’m here. I just don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry. What could you say? I shouldn’t have bothered you in the middle of your day. I just. . .” his voice trailed off.

“What?” I asked breathlessly. Across the cafe, Tim was paying for our coffee and picking it up off the counter.

“I try not to think of you, but with every beat of my heart, you’re there.”

“God, Gabe.” I exhaled. Tim was walking toward our table.

“Can I see you?”

“No!” I hissed, then added, “I don’t know. I’ve got to go. Bye,” in a gush and hung up.

“Everything okay?” Tim asked as he set our coffee on the table.

“Yeah. Yup,” I smiled and mentally patted myself on the back for adding a new, albeit monosyllabic, word into the mix.

“Anything important?” He asked.

“Hmm?”

“The phone call. It looked serious.” His watercolor blue eyes expressed a level of care and concern of which I was entirely certain I’d never be worthy.

“Oh, that? No, it’s fine. That was my doctor calling to let me know I had an entirely clean bill of health. I’ll have the official paper to show you later this week. It’s being mailed, like in the actual paper mail. Apparently that’s still a thing.”

“Luce, I don’t need to see a form. I trust you,” he grinned and the flush on his neck gave me a strong clue as to what he was thinking. He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Huh, your cheeks are nice and warm now, but they’re still blazing red. We should get some aloe so that windburn doesn’t hurt later.”

“I have some at home, I think,” I mumbled and blew on my coffee. My gut was in knots. While I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when things went wrong with me and Gabe, I knew right then and there was the precise moment I’d altered things with Tim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know the two teams are going to be beside themselves after this chapter. . . but can I take a hot sec to say that I never ever imagined that a story I wrote would have caused readers to form teams for shipping my characters??? I'm so grateful for this little, sweet fandom. I know I say it all the time, but I love writing for you guys and am so thankful you are here with me. xoxoxoxo. A thousand hugs.


	49. Chapter 49

In my twenty four years on the planet, I’d never been a liar.

My conscience always wracked me with too much guilt to lie to people, especially to people for whom I cared. I’d feel overwhelming dread if I even imagined lying to someone. Years later, in therapy, I learned this guilt was indicative of lingering trauma, fear, and deeply rooted shame. While this may have seemed completely obvious to someone like June or Tim who had the benefit of a grounded family of origin, it was a concept that completely eluded me.

In this particular case, however, I had good reason to feel guilty and I didn’t know where to begin making it better. Even very obvious solutions seemed to vanish in thin air, or became completely implausible when I rolled them around on my tongue.

For the rest of the week, my lie about the phone call sat in my gut like a ball of lead. If Tim noticed anything amiss, he didn’t mention it. He gave me space and didn’t ask questions when I spent a few more nights than usual at my own apartment.

I’d known- instinctively, secretly- since answering Gabe’s call that I would be seeing him. It just took me several days to admit it to myself, and I wasn’t yet sure how or when it would happen. Alone, in my own bed, I tried to remember every detail of how his voice had sounded, the desperation of his breath, the longing of his words. I tried to predict what a conversation with him would be like, but all I could imagine was falling into his arms like falling into an enormous black lake and disappearing beneath the surface of his embrace.

I waited several days beyond a week, thinking maybe he would call me back, but he didn’t. When I finally picked up my phone to text him, my hands shook. He answered my “hey” within three minutes and asked if he could call. I sent back a thumbs up.

“I honestly didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again,” he said when I answered his call.

“Well, I can hang up if you don’t want to hear from me,” I was testing him. My voice was hard.

“No, please don’t hang up. I’m glad you reached out. Really glad,” he sighed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” I said. We were quiet for a long moment, but it didn’t feel awkward. “How are you?” I finally asked.

“I don’t even know anymore, Lucy. It’s nice to hear your voice, though.”

I realized my fingers were freezing. I swapped my phone into my other hand and tucked the hand that had been holding it under my leg to warm it. It didn’t really help. It was like my veins were turning to icicles. “I miss you,” I said. My voice sounded far away, like I heard it from behind the ice walls of the cavern I was suddenly stuck in. I didn’t even know I was going to say it until the words were out of my mouth.

“What are you up to this evening? Are you working?”

I wasn’t working, but Tim had classes until ten. “Nope.”

“Could I buy you some dinner?” Gabe sounded fragile. Before I could say anything, he added, “It just seems like when things ended they were so heated and hectic. We never really got to talk it all through.”

“Talk it all through? You mean, like you want closure or something?” I breathed.

“I don’t know what I want,” he sighed heavily. “Except that I want to see you, talk to you.”

“Well that might be the first honest thing you ever said to me,” I didn’t mean to sound quite as angry as I did.

“Meaning?”

“That you don’t know what you want.”

“Ah. I see. Well, you’re right that I am being honest about that, and you’re right that I was confused, that I am confused, but it’s absolutely not the first honest thing I ever said to you.”

I agreed to meet him at the restaurant where we had our first date, but this time, I didn’t dress up or do anything complicated with my makeup. I tucked my hair back in a low bun, and left on the gray pants and black sweater I’d been wearing all day. My one concession to my appearance was a little smudge of very sheer lipgloss. On the entire drive to meet Gabe, I was keenly aware of my outfit and lack of makeup. On the off chance anyone saw me with him, I didn’t want it to seem as if I had dolled myself up. There was still a part of me that didn’t want word of it to circle back to Tim, but I didn’t know if that was because I had feelings for Tim and just didn’t want him to be hurt, or if it was because I had feelings for Tim and didn’t want to sabotage what we had together.

It surprised me how calm I was and how natural it felt to see Gabe again. It had been nearly three months since he’d called things off with me in that dark parking lot.

It seemed like years passed between us.

It seemed like no time at all passed between us.

He arrived before me and waited in the foyer of the restaurant. When he saw me enter, his face lit up. He wore a casual sweater and pants that did not look like part of his clerical uniform.

“You’re here,” he said. I nodded and shrugged with a little smile. He looked down, bashfully, and asked, “Can I hug you?”

“Sure. I guess,” I said and we opened our arms to one another. He held me for a long moment and I felt his chest rise and fall in slow, metered breaths. He kissed the top of my head and released me. Quietly, we allowed a host to show us to a table. As we walked to the table, I recognized the unique incense of his scent on my own skin. One embrace and my pores were already soaking him up, absorbing his essence into my own.

We sat and ordered wine. Gabe tried to touch my hand, but I pulled it away.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I said and grabbed a piece of bread. I dipped it in oil and started tearing it in little bits on my plate just to keep my fingers busy.

“So, you’re with Tim?” His forehead furrowed.

“Yeah. Sort of. Kind of.”

“What does that mean?”

“I guess it means we are enjoying each other’s company,” I huffed and wiped my hands on my napkin. Gabe asking about Tim made me instantly defensive.

“Well,” he said slowly, nodding as he spoke, “you deserve to be with company you enjoy.”

“Is this what you want to talk about? You want to talk about my relationship with Tim?”

“Honestly? No. While part of me wants you to be happy and cared for, another part of me is consumed with jealousy.”

“You have no right to be jealous,” I snapped.

“I know,” he said.

“You walked away.”

“I know,” he whispered and hung his head.

“You let me go,” I hissed.

“No. Not that,” his eyes met mine across the table. I held his gaze. “I might have walked away, but I didn’t let go of you, not really, not for a second. I didn’t know how. I don’t know how.”

“Oh, Gabe,” I softened and put my hand on top of his. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck,” he scoffed and put his other hand on top of mine. We ordered our meals and munched on salad. There wasn’t any small talk we could possibly make with one another. After consuming a cherry tomato and another hearty sip of wine, he announced, “Linda quit.”

I almost choked on a crouton. “What?”

“Well, I suppose I should say she resigned. That sounds nicer, doesn’t it? She gave her notice at the beginning of the year. She said she wanted to move to Florida with her husband for his health, but I think she really just couldn’t bear to look at me. I let her down. She’d had me on a pedestal so high and when I came down from it, she couldn’t reconcile my disgrace with who she wanted me to be.”

“Florida?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that seems about right. That bitch belongs in America’s basement,” the words came out without my even really thinking them through, but I meant them.

“Lucy,” Gabe chuckled. “Your anger toward Linda is misdirected. What happened wasn’t her fault. Not really.”

“Wasn’t it? I never liked her and she clearly never liked me, so whatever,” I raised my glass in a mocking toast. “So, did you even end up talking to the Bishop? About your, um, disgrace as you put it?” Everything I said came out with a sharp edge.

“Yes,” Gabe ran his napkin over his mouth and set it neatly back on his lap. He put his fingers on the table’s edge, almost like it was a piano he was about to start playing. “After we went through the Advent preparations and services, I went to him and made a confession.”

“Did you do it in the confessional?” I asked. I don’t know why this popped into my head, or why it was even remotely important.

“No. We sat down in my office and talked it through.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told him I’d broken my vow of celibacy. I told him I’d fallen in love and turned away from my faith for a time in order to pursue it.” Gabe’s voice was a delicate whisper, like a single silken thread fluttering in the air, tickling my ear. I struggled to interpret his words, to make sense of them. I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t offer more.

“Well, apparently you didn’t get fired,” I muttered. The server came to our table to switch our salad plates for our main courses and to refill our wine glasses. We were silently frozen as he completed these tasks.

“No, I didn’t get fired,” Gabe said once the server had disappeared again. “We prayed and the Bishop asked me some questions about whether or not I intended to continue pursuing pleasures of the flesh, or if I desired to rededicate myself to my vocation.”

“And?”

“At that point, I honestly told him that I didn’t know. Lucy, I was suffering. I couldn’t eat, I could barely sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I’d see your face and it was devastating. There were times I thought I was suffocating, or that my heart was exploding with missing and wanting you. I’d never experienced anything like it and I didn’t know how to get through it, how to make it stop.”

“You didn’t call me.” It wasn’t a question. It was just a statement of fact, uttered with little more emotion than a particle of dust.

“No. I didn’t.” His voice fell around me like shimmering motes and I struggled to feel something more than a fading into the back of my skull. It took all my effort to drag myself back to the front of my mind, to actually hear and understand his words.

“Why?” Somehow it seemed important not so much that I understand what he had to say, but that he just keep speaking to me.

His shoulders rose to his ears in a deep breath. He gave his glasses a gentle prod as he exhaled and shook his head. “It didn’t seem fair. I didn’t know what I would say to you. I certainly didn’t have anything different to offer you, and I didn’t want to drag you back into whatever we had been doing. You were so unhappy. I was just making you so unhappy. That’s never what I wanted.” He paused, pushed some food around on his plate with his fork, and smiled sadly at me. “At that point, I didn’t know if you’d even answer my call.”

“I think I would have,” I sighed and licked my lips.

“Well, it didn’t really matter because the Bishop sent me away on retreat for a month to reflect on what I was truly being called to do.” Gabe explained he’d been sent to a monastery in another state to meditate and pray among a silent order of monks. "I'd only just gotten back when I saw you that night at the shops, uhh, before your party." 

“Shit. That’s like the ultimate time out.”

“It wasn’t meant to be a punishment,” he said, “besides there wasn’t much more that could have punished me at that point beside just the agony of missing you. I’d try to pray and just get lost in a silent forest of pain. I suppose that sounds pretty dramatic, but I’d lie there in my cell at night and the only prayer I could remember to recite was your name. My love, my light. My Lucia.”

“But I wasn’t yours anymore, Gabe. You gave me up,” I clenched my hands into fists. “You gave me up and now you’re telling me you didn’t even want the thing you gave me up for?” Anger rammed me right back into the front of my brain. I scowled at him and felt every nerve in my body fire up with whatever righteous indignation I’d managed to suppress and displace over the past three months.

I wanted Gabe to see me getting fucked from behind in that filthy bar bathroom. I wanted him to see the bruises on my hips from where I knocked against the sink. I wanted him to watch me eating expensive food and rolling around with a married man in a posh hotel room. I wanted him to see my sullen skin and blood shot eyes.

I wanted him to witness every single moment of filthy depravity I inflicted upon my flesh out of warped grief and loss of his love and attention. But more than that, I wanted him to feel the cavernous emptiness I felt while I did it all.

In that moment, hearing about his monastery misery, I realized I wasn’t exactly angry; I was jealous. The fact he had been able to experience some sort of poetic and transcendent mourning while I felt completely numb made me more envious than I’d ever been. Because whatever despair he said he felt, however many tears he claimed he cried, nothing on earth could have hurt worse than the utter nothingness that had resided in me during those weeks after he walked away.

“This was a mistake,” I choked out slowly.

“What?”

“Coming here. This was a mistake. I can’t do this,” I folded my napkin and put it on the table. “I’m leaving,” I said as if it weren’t already obvious by the fact I was standing and putting on my coat.

“Lucy, what happened? Talk to me, please!” Gabe growled desperately. He signaled for the server to bring the check.

“Fuck you, Gabe,” I whispered. “That’s what happened. Fuck you and your pretty little story. Fuck your closure. Fuck. You.” I jabbed a finger at him. He was digging a wad of cash out of his wallet to toss on the table, before the server even got there. I turned and left the restaurant. I felt practically euphoric with my grand exit, but then I got to my car and realized I’d left my handbag with my keys in it back at the table. “Fucking fuck!” I hissed.

“You’re not going to get far without this,” Gabe murmured as he approached, holding my purse out to me. I snatched it from him and opened it to find my keys. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I’m so sorry. If I thought it would make any difference, I’d say it every day for the rest of my life. I won’t bother you again. Just know I really am very sorry.” He turned to walk to his car.

“Do you even know what you’re sorry for?” I yelled. He paused and slowly walked back toward me. “I didn’t get a biblical vacation for quiet reflection for a month, Gabe! I was frozen. I couldn’t feel anything. I wasn’t even in my own body! You don’t know! You don’t know, the things I did just to try to feel something. You don’t know!” I doubled over, sobbing.

When he pulled me into his arms, I was vaguely aware he was talking to me. I heard the vibration of his voice through his chest as he spoke all the familiar words of comfort to me, as he stroked my hair and kissed away my tears. What I was entirely aware of was the warmth that flooded me, suddenly and completely. It filled every inch of me, flowed to the tips of each toe and every finger. Even my nose felt bright and warm, nuzzled into the spicy amber and frankincense of his woolen coat. His hands on my face felt enormous and I felt the tininess of belonging to him, of his making me into something small and precious that he could slip into his pocket. Cupping my jaw, he tipped my face up and I opened my eyes to the universe of his gaze. He pressed his lips, mouth closed, upon mine, and we trembled together, closer in each other’s arms as if compelled by the earth below us becoming unstable. “What do you want from me?” I wept as I realized my arms had found their way inside his coat and were snugly wrapped around his waist.

“I don’t want anything from you,” he whispered. “I just want you.”

“But what does that mean, Gabe?”

“I don’t have the answers. I might never have the answers. And I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“But I am hurting. I hurt all the time.”

“God knows I’d do anything to take it away for you. I’d do anything for you not to hurt, Baby.”

“Then take me home.” Feeling again made me suddenly brazen, certain. “And make me not hurt, only if for tonight.” Our next kiss was deep and urgent and completely unwilling to hold any questions or answers beyond how we would find instant comfort and bliss in the communion of our reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!! I don't think there is a group of readers in the history of stories who have every delighted a writer as much as you do me. When I read your comments, I literally glow from head to toe like you've just fed me a light bulb that refuses to go out. Your generosity and sincerity and support seriously makes my days. I'm so so grateful for you all!!! xoxoxoxo.... 
> 
> Annnnddddd. . . I know there are gonna be some of you who are not happy with me after this chapter. But. . . I really think that the way I've concluded this work will make everyone happy. You just have to trust me until we get there, k???


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just pure porn. . . don't say I never did anything nice for you. xxx.

I followed him home in my car, parked behind him, and we walked in wordlessly. His house was dark, but it was warm like it was waiting to welcome us. Once inside, he pressed me against the wall and kissed me hard as we wrestled one another out of our coats. Refusing to stop kissing or touching, we tumbled blindly toward the stairs. When I worked my hands up under his sweater and shirt, he winced.

“Sorry,” I giggled. My hands were cold. I realized then it seemed my hands had been cold since I’d last touched him, since we’d last been together.

“I’ll warm you,” he whispered in his desire-gruff voice. He picked me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist, held on tight as he carried me up the stairs to his bedroom. We didn’t bother to turn on any lights or do anything that meant even a second’s distraction from one another. He peeled off my sweater, roughly shucked off his clothes, and we thrilled at the primal heat of our flesh reunited.

Once he’d gotten me out of my pants, he laid me out on the bed and kissed his way between my legs. I was already powerfully aroused, plenty wet, and desperate to have him inside of me. I tried to pull him back up, but her growled, “I have to taste you, Baby,” as he was already licking through me and sucking on my clit with needy grunts and moans. “Yeah, you taste so good. I’d forgotten.” He pushed his tongue into me and fucked me with his mouth, slow and sweet, into an almost savage climax that had me squeezing my thighs against his head, squirming on his face until I couldn’t take anymore. With a whimper I pulled him up. His cock strained and dripped on my belly, clearly more than ready to enter me. Its velvety heat teased me and I spread my legs wide to let him know I wanted him.

“Oh, oh my,” I gasped when his tip and first inch breached my still sensitive pussy. I’d forgotten how big he was, how he filled me, how tight he made me when he gave me an orgasm prior to entering, but it all came back as he pushed in bit by glorious bit. He wrapped his arms around me and groaned as he finally thrust in all the way and just relaxed there. “Does it still feel good?” I asked.

“It’s, uuhhhhmmfff,” he mumbled as he pulled all the way out and pushed all the way back in super slow, then repeated it. “It’s heaven, Lucia. You feel so hot and wet, Baby, so good for me.” He stroked in and out slow and steady and before long I was coming around him, squealing and panting and grinding my clit on him. Everything felt so good, so right, so easy. He felt so familiar. When he sped up and started to take it a bit harder and deeper, I knew he was close. I wrapped my legs around him and tilted my pelvis so he could go as deep as he liked and he did. He didn’t go rough, but when he came he cried out and arched back and I felt what must have been a massive release pump into me as he begged, “Take it, take it all, that’s it, keep taking it, all I have, everything, oh fuck, take it all.”

I caressed his lower back in gentle circles as he collapsed on me. He shifted his weight to one side, so as not to crush me, but we stayed connected. “I think your sheets are going to be good and messy,” I whispered.

“I couldn’t care less,” he said and sucked my lower lip into a kiss. “I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for the last three months and can finally breathe again.”

“Hmph,” I exhaled a little laugh and stroked against the coarse grain of his beard. “And I feel like I’ve finally thawed after being deep frozen. Like that was the first time I could feel anything.”

“We’re quite a pair, aren’t we, Daisy?”

I gasped. “You haven’t called me that in forever,” I sighed.

“Not out loud anyway,” he whispered and kissed my nose. “I missed it, saying your name.”

“I missed all of it,” I shivered.

“Are you cold?”

“Not in the slightest,” I said but snuggled closer to him anyway. I ran my fingers over his chest and twiddled his nipple which made him move his hips. He was still inside me. It was wet and slick between my thighs.

“I’m already getting hard again, Baby,” he murmured. “Feel it?”

“Yes. I feel it. I feel you, Gabe.”

“Can you take more?”

“All you’ve got,” I grinned against his shoulder. He pulled me on top of him and I sat up, astride his hips, his cock hardening inside of me as I rocked back and forth on him. This time, it took longer for us both to finish, but it was lovely. He watched me fuck him with a look somewhere between rapture and awe, finally pulling me down to lick my nipples as he finished with a much shorter and softer climax.

“Stay all night with me?” He settled me next to him and pulled covers up over us.

“Really?”

“I want you to. I want to wake with you in my arms.”

Tracing the features of his face, I asked, “Does it change anything?”

“Baby,” he sighed heavily and kissed my forehead. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I just want you here, lying here with me. Please?”

“Why should I stay? If it doesn’t change anything?”

“For the same reason you came home with me. So we can breathe. So we can feel. And because I love you,” his lips ghosted over my face.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you, Lucia. I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just because you all are extra particularly sweet, you get a second chapter in as many days! I hope you enjoyed this smutty little interlude. Come on, even the Tim shippers among us must admit they missed the good times that these two erotic love birds have! Anyway, your comments continue to provide incredible motivation for my literary heart and soul and my tip typing fingertips. xoxoxox.


	51. Chapter 51

He really did hold me all night long.

Although I slept deep and hard, there was always some part of me aware of his abiding proximity. It was my favorite place in the world. With his arm over me and his hand nestled in between my breasts, I didn’t even need to dream.

When I woke, it took me a full moment to realize where I was and then I had to really work to figure out what day it was as I shook thick, dreamless sleep from my head. Before I even opened my eyes, the rich scent of Gabe’s body filled me as if I were planted in an exotic garden of it. Of _him_. My back was against his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around my waist. Sleepily, I drew his hand to my lips and kissed his knuckles.

“Morning,” he purred. I rolled to face him.

“Hey, Mister,” I blinked. We kissed and nuzzled, in a loving, welcoming way that should have been arousing, but strangely was not. “Last night was unreal,” I offered and tucked my head under his chin.

“Was it ever,” he chuckled. “It felt like the first time all over again. I missed you.”

“Mmh, I could tell,” I said. I propped up on my elbow and looked down at his sleepy face. “Did you, um, you know, do it to yourself while we were apart?”

He closed his eyes and turned his face away in embarrassment. “Why do you want to know that?”

“I’m curious.”

“Well, I didn’t for a long while. Not right after and not while I was away on retreat. But then when I came back, that night I saw you before your party, wearing that dress?” He moaned and rolled his eyes back in his head. “It was torture. You looked so gorgeous and you were with someone else. I was sure it would kill me.”

“I’m glad it didn’t,” I said and smiled, but I felt sorry I’d asked. I wasn’t ready to think about Tim or the world beyond Gabe’s bedroom. It was early, but his curtains were open and thin orange light filled the sky beyond his windows. With quiet gentleness, we pet one another. A clock on his nightstand ticked with effortless consistency. In between our soft inhalations and exhalations, I heard the faint rise and fall of waves outside. “This is the first time I woke up here. I’ve never even been here in daylight,” I observed.

“I guess not,” he agreed. “It’s strange though. You’re so constant in my mind, it seems like you’re always here. Like I go to sleep with you and wake up with you every night and day.”

I thought about this as my mind flashed back over the past months. “You weren’t with me like that,” I replied. “When we were apart, you were just gone. I couldn’t find you anywhere, couldn’t feel you in anything.”

“Did you want to?”

“Dunno,” I sighed. “Probably not.”

“Out of sight, out of mind?”

“No, it definitely wasn’t like that. I don’t know how to explain it. I spent all my energy trying to distract myself, because if I wasn’t in constant motion it was just unbearable pain.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m familiar with the pain part of the deal. Even keeping you with me as I did, it hurt something fierce.”

“It’s funny how different we are. We went through it in completely opposite ways.”

“Hmmh. Well, there’s no right or wrong way to go through grief. Everyone’s experience and process is different. The only similarity is the pain, I suppose. They say grief is the other side of love, that we grieve in proportion to how much we’ve loved.”

“Oh ‘they’ say that do ‘they’?” I made exaggerated air quotes around ‘they’. “Is that what it was? Grief?”

“It was for me. Worse than when my mother died. Can’t answer for you, Baby.”

Something twisted in my heart. I hated thinking of him in a cold monastery cell someplace grieving all by himself. I told him as much and he held me close against him so I heard his heart beat, consistent as the clock. “I didn’t even know you could mourn for something that was still alive,” I sighed. What neither of us mentioned was that the moment I stepped beyond the confines of the cozy fantasy in which we lay, the cycle would begin again. This realization hollowed me out, made me feel like the wind and waves could come rushing right through me. “So, what now? What is it we’re feeling now?” I wondered aloud. It wasn’t really a question I expected an answer to, or that I felt could be answered. The initial bliss of being physically together with Gabe again was fading, and although I felt warm and comfortable near him, I also felt a chilly dread creeping toward me. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I was feeling at all other than emotionally confused and physically sticky.

Before he could even try to answer, I slipped out of bed to use the bathroom. It was a brisk morning and my skin prickled with the chill. A long sleeved, thermal shirt hung on the back of Gabe’s bathroom door and I pulled it over my head. It was huge on me, but it felt nice. The comfort of it bickered with the anxiety infiltrating my mind. I wasn’t ready to face reality. I could barely look at myself in the mirror as I rinsed out my mouth and splashed water on my face.

Wandering back into his bedroom, I stumbled over piles of our clothes and shoes. I picked up his sweater and my pants and draped them over the end of the bed. My phone fell out of my pants pocket and landed with a soft thud on the carpet. When I picked it up, I saw I’d missed three calls and as many texts from Tim.

“Shit, Gabe, what did we do last night?” I exhaled in a panicked whisper. He shrugged with a sad smile as I climbed back into bed and flipped through my texts.

“Tim?”

“Yep,” I said. I put my phone on the bedside table and noticed the picture of us in the antique frame that I’d meant to give him for his birthday. I’d shoved it in the bags of stuff I left for him on my porch back in December. Picking it up, I stared at it good and hard, looking for clues of who I was, trying to remember what I felt like in that moment, on that rock by the river in New Hampshire. “It seemed a lot simpler then.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t.”

“Yeah, well, I think I’m getting a taste of what that must have been like for you, living two different lives, having to lie and hide.” I looked up from the picture, set it back on the night stand and reached for his hand. “Gotta say, I don’t much like it.”

“Are things exclusive between you and Tim? You made it sound like it was more casual when you mentioned it last night.”

“He would like it to be more, I think. I can’t imagine why. I’m fucking toxic.”

Gabe wrapped his arms around me and kissed my temple. “You’re a lot of things, Lucy. And you’re flawed like the rest of the human race. But you’re not toxic.”

“You still love me?”

“I’ll never not love you.”

I scoffed out a laugh and flopped onto my back. “I don’t know how. Or why,” I said and rubbed my face. “You and Tim. Like I’m terrible. I’ve been terrible to both of you. I know I have.”

“He loves you too?”

I peered up at Gabe and nodded slowly. “He said he did. Well, he said it once and then he didn’t say it again.” I watched realization pass over Gabe’s features.

“Did you say it back to him?” His voice was hoarse.

“No. I didn’t. I didn’t say anything at all.” I suddenly wanted to be home by myself in my own bed. No, scratch that, I wanted to be on a remote island miles away from everyone in the entire world. “It feels too weird, talking about this with you,” I said.

“It’s okay. We can talk about it,” he said, but then we were quiet for a few long moments and didn’t talk about anything. At last, Gabe asked, “Are you happy with him?”

“Happy? What even is that?” I rolled my eyes. “Not that it matters now anyway. Exclusive or not, I can’t keep lying to him. I’m going to have to come clean to him about this and that’s going to put an end to it.”

Gabe scratched his beard and reached for his glasses which he simply held for a moment. Gesticulating with them, he said, “What if you didn’t tell him? What if you just went back and forgot about me, about this? What if you just made a life with him and tried to be happy?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Gabe,” I snapped. “Of all the things you’ve ever said to me, that might be the stupidest.” I got out of bed and hastily pulled my clothes together to dress.

“Hear me out, Lucy,” he pleaded. “You don’t have to sabotage whatever it is you have with Tim. Let this be our goodbye. Go back to him. Live a life. Let him love you and give you what you deserve. You don’t have to break both or even either of your hearts and you can be free of this mess. He’s a good guy from a nice family. You deserve to be happy.”

“I don’t deserve shit! How do you not see that? I’ve been fucking a priest for the better part of the year with like zero remorse whatsoever, and now I’ve lied and sort of cheated on the potentially sweetest man on the planet. I don’t fucking deserve anything other than the despair and misery I’ve wrought all around me! I don’t deserve to be loved and to live happily ever after. The only honorable thing I can do is fess up to Tim and try to get out of his way so he can live the life he deserves without a fucking train wreck!”

“Lucy, you are not a train wreck. And you are not responsible for my choices, or for the way I feel about you. I really just want you to be happy.”

“Well you have a funny way of showing it,” I said. I yanked on my sweater and smoothed it out over my stomach and hips. Gabe had risen from bed and put on a pair of flannel pajama pants and the sweater he’d worn last night. His hair was tangled and messy and he looked old and sad. Something about the way the pale morning light fell on him made me feel like I was seeing him, truly seeing him, for the first time. The lines around his eyes seemed deeper and more worried, and the skin on his neck appeared thin, like a beam of sun could have shown through it. He stood before me as tall and strong as ever, but there was a fragility to him I’d never really seen. I wondered if it had always been there, this strange delicate quality, and if I’d never noticed it before, or if it was something brand new. Either way, I recognized it for the first time and it weakened me. I suppose from a certain angle it might have seemed hideous, but for whatever reason, my knees shook when I looked up at him and for all his newfound strangeness, I loved him more than ever. Crashing into his chest, I mumbled, “It’s like you fucked me and now you just want to foist me off like some unwanted thing.”

“Oh, Daisy, you are not unwanted. I do want you. You must know that by now,” his breath stirred my hair and when he paused in speaking and breathing I heard a wave crash on the shore outside. “If I could be the man I wanted to be for you, I would make you happy and keep you safe by my side forever. But I don’t know how to be that man.”

I looked up at him through a veil of tears. “There was a moment when I thought you did know how,” I sniffled.

“I know. I think I just wanted it so much I convinced myself I could do it.”

“But you can’t.”

He shook his head and his nostrils flared with the effort it took to hold back his own tears. His hands shook as he cradled my face and his voice broke as he said, “It is not for lack of loving you. I am just made this way. I am what I am.”

“I keep thinking if you just loved me enough you’d be with me,” I sobbed.

“I do love you enough. I love you more than enough. It isn’t about love. If it were that simple I’d have married you the first time I saw you.”

“I don’t understand, Gabe. It doesn’t make any sense. It just seems so unfair.”

“I know.” He led me to the bed and we sat together on the edge. Taking my hand, he opened it on top of his. My fingers splayed over his palm like a starfish. They looked so thin against his muscular musician hand. “Every day since I’ve met you, I’ve prayed on this.”

“On what? Our hands?”

“No, not exactly,” he sniffed and even though I was still looking down at our hands, I knew he smiled. “I’ve wanted Him, God, to tell me why He would grace my life with this missing part of my very own being if it is not to be.” He brought his other hand to cover mine and held it warmly. “I don’t know how to explain my love for you other than you enchant my soul, and when I am with you I feel a completion I’ve never known. With you I realize what it means to truly love another human.”

“So, did you get an answer then? From God?”

“Not really,” he whispered. Gabe took a deep breath and leaned against me. “But I think I get an answer to my other question every time I see this,” he looked deeply in my eyes and stroked my cheek, “expression of pain and confusion on your beautiful face.”

I swallowed, not wanting to ask, but knowing I had to. “And what question is that?”

“What should I do?” He kissed my forehead. “You’re not toxic, Lucia. I am. I complicated your life in ways I never had a right to do. I should have walked away long before this ever started and I should walk away now, allow you to live your life.”

“What if that’s not what I want?” I clutched fistfuls of his sweater.

“I’m older. I should be wiser. I should know better. I should be stronger.” As he said this, his face crumpled and I couldn’t decide if he resembled an older man, or a tired child who was just so lost and confounded. His despair was genuine, palpable. I felt it as keenly as I felt my own. I looped my arms around his waist and kissed his cheek.

“I don’t know about any of that, Gabe,” I said. “I only know I love you. I don’t even really know why or how. I just know that I do.” I glanced at the clock and exhaled heavily. I had to rush home to get ready for work.

“You sure I can’t make you some French Toast before you go?” Gabe offered.

“That is tempting and very sweet, but I really have a brutal day ahead of me.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, my phone startled us both with a buzz. I leaned across the bed to pick it up from the night stand and saw it was Tim calling. Letting it go to voicemail, I pocketed my phone and stood. “Can I call you later?” I asked Gabe.

“Of course,” he said with a little nod. He walked me out to my car. In the light of day, I saw how wooded and remote the area around his house really was. With Linda out of the picture, I wasn’t worried in the slightest about anyone seeing me get into my car and drive away from him. What did worry me to a state of nausea was the call I had to make next. I didn’t even bother to listen to Tim’s messages, I just hit his number. He answered before the first ring even finished.

“Hey, I was worried. Where have you been?”

My mouth was simultaneously dry and sweaty. “Hi, Tim. I’m fine. Don’t be worried. But, um, we need to talk.”


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch... this one hurts. . .

By the time I showered, brewed coffee, and dressed, Tim arrived at my house. I managed to reschedule my morning office hours and neither of us had classes until later in the day, so it afforded us time to talk. The simultaneous desire to simply get it over with and avoid it forever filled me. I wasn’t certain what or how much I was going to say; I only knew it needed to be the truth, and I knew the truth would wound.

From my kitchen, I heard Tim let himself in and call out to cheerfully announce his presence. He entered my kitchen with obvious trepidation in his smile. He shrugged off his puffy winter coat and stood before me in a bright blue sweater and jeans. The urge to hug him surprised me with its intensity, but I held my position on the other side of the counter. He seemed reserved also, and made no moves toward me. _He knew. He had to know_. But that didn’t make it any easier for me.

Part of me was surprised at how awful and hard it felt to be approaching this conversation with him. Another part of me felt incredibly sad. And yet another part of me was scared as hell, involuntarily watching out of the corner of my eyes for breathless fish out of water, then reminding myself Tim wasn’t like that. It would be terrible, and it would hurt, _but Tim wouldn’t hurt me_.

I poured him a mug of coffee and fixed it with milk and sugar to his liking. Handing it to him, I said, “I’m sorry I disappeared last night and didn’t return your calls. Or texts.”

“Nah, it’s okay. You’re allowed to take space. I was just worried cuz it’s not like you. Well, at least it hasn’t been like you over the last couple months since we’ve been hanging out. I mean you usually call, but I get it. You’re a free entity.” He shrugged and sipped his coffee. There was no way I could drink coffee with my stomach already churning with nerves, but I made myself a cup as well, just for something to do. We went into the living room and sat on the couch. “You look upset though, Luce. And you said we needed to talk. So, what’s up?”

The shortest distance was the path that cut straight through. I took it.

“Tim, I spent the night with someone else last night. And I feel like I owe it to you to tell you, like I owe you an explanation.” I sucked my lips and tucked my hands under my thighs to warm them and stop them from shaking.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “You mean, like you, um. . .”

“Yeah, I slept with someone else.”

He put his coffee on the table in front of us and put his hands in his hair as he tried to make sense of the information I’d just delivered. “Wow.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “Luce, I know we weren’t officially official, but I can’t deny this, uh, well, it hurts. It really hurts.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

“No, no,” he sighed and blinked like he was trying not to cry. “I’m just. . . um, it’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting it, so. . .” He put a hand on his chest, over his heart, and I noticed little flecks of yellow and orange paint in the creases of his knuckles and under his fingernails.

“I wasn’t expecting it either, Tim. And the last thing I wanted was to cause you any kind of hurt. I really am so fond of you.”

He looked at me with a searing intensity I’d never seen in him before. His eyes, rimmed red with sorrow, were dazzling blue. He sniffled. He pulled his sweater sleeves down over his hands and tucked away his fingers. I found myself bereft, missing the little spots of paint and unable to focus on anything else. “Right,” he said. “So, where does this leave us then? You and me?”

Licking my lips I felt tears collect in my own eyes. “I don’t think. . . I mean, I believe we need to stop seeing one another.” My voice was squeaky. I didn’t want to cry. He didn’t need to see me cry.

“Is that what you want?” He shuddered. I couldn’t help but reach out and put a hand on his knee in a weird and awkward attempt at comforting him. I made my shoulders rise and fall in a little shrug. He poked his hands back out of the end of his turquoise sweater, picked up my hand, and held it. His hands were warm and dry. Again, he asked if that was what I really wanted. When I didn’t answer, he choked on a little sob and added, “I feel so much for you. You know I do. And I know we don’t really talk about whatever we are, Lucy, but there’s something between us. I know it. I can feel it when we are together. It’s like you just don’t allow yourself to give in to it all the way.”

“Tim, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Why? Why can’t you be with me? Why can’t you really let yourself be with me?”

His adamance and emotion amazed me. I didn’t know how I expected him to react. I would have understood anger, distance, even rage. But this raw emotion and desperation for an answer was not something I was familiar with sitting across from. It rather reminded me of myself, and the realization another human could be experiencing even a glimmer of the pain I felt was as pathologically fascinating as it felt heartbreakingly sad. “I don’t know, Tim. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Is it because of the priest?”

His question caught me off guard, although I suppose it shouldn’t have. Tim certainly was not obtuse, but he usually wasn’t so straightforward. “Tim? Please, I don’t want to go there.”

“I’m serious, Luce. You feel something for me. I feel it, but there’s something holding you back.” He clutched my hands against his chest. “So what is it? Is it him?”

“Stop right there. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I wrenched my hands away. This just needed to be over.

“Oh, I don’t? I saw you with my own eyes! I could see how you looked at each other on multiple occasions, right here in your apartment being one of them. You were holding hands on the church trip to the aquarium for crying out loud, and he looked like he wanted to devour you the night of your birthday party. If you think you owe it to me to be honest, then please start with being honest with yourself. I know it isn’t just platonic between you.”

“Then we really don’t need to have this conversation if you know so much, do we?” I suddenly noticed tears streaming down my face. It was hard for me to swallow because my heart felt thick and like it clogged my throat. My mouth tasted like someone had packed it full of dirty pennies and I wondered if I’d be sick.

“Luce I care about you. I always have and I probably always will. I haven’t been able to look at another woman since we met. And I don’t know how they do it in your world, but in mine, when you care about someone you address it when they are doing things that are dangerous and self destructive.”

“Dangerous and self destructive? Can we not?”

“I’ve held back on saying these things for a long time because I didn’t want to hurt you, or offend you, or push you away. I was so scared to push you even an inch further away from me because I crave every single second of you. . . of your attention. These past few months I thought I was the luckiest man alive because we were together. But I think. . . I think it’s at the point now where not saying anything could cause you more hurt in the long run.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“He’s a priest, Lucy.”

“Well aware, thanks.”

“And he’s twice your age, if not older.”

“Okay, and your point?”

“He’s basically a married man. And men like him do not leave. Look, I don’t care that he’s a priest. He could be the president or the Pope for all I care. What I care about is how it affects you. I’ve seen how the situation- _how he_ \- hurts you, and it kills me to see you hurt.” He paused to catch his breath but not for long enough for me to say anything, which was fine because I was fairly speechless. “Lucy, I’d never hurt you like that. I’m yours if you’ll have me and I’ll do anything for you. I love you. I told you the night of your party and we’ve been pretending I didn’t, but I did and I meant it. I don’t say it because I know it freaks you out. But I think it every minute of every day and I try to prove it to you. I don’t want you to be afraid of love, but I want to understand why you are afraid of it. You just won’t let me in long enough to figure it out.”

“I don’t deserve your love, Tim. People like me can’t be loved by people like you.”

“That’s bullshit,” Tim snapped. His tone startled me and I winced. I’d never heard him swear in anger before, if what he was even feeling was in fact anger. He seemed to notice I’d been alarmed and he softened his tone. “I’m sorry, but you’re more than deserving of love. I don’t understand why you’ve tricked yourself into thinking you aren’t.”

During our time together, I’d shared bits and pieces of my history with Tim. I didn’t give him the full technicolor movie versions like I’d given Gabe, but I’d shown him snapshots here and there of what life had been like for me growing up and in college. I knew June had filled in some of the blanks for him. Ever since we were teenagers, she’d had this way of being able to say the ugly parts of my story so I’d make sense to people, but I never felt betrayed or exposed by her disclosures. In fact, her voice was a tremendous gift in my mute moments. I had never liked talking about myself or telling my story, even when it was absolutely necessary to give shape and form to a certain aspect of my behavior. Sitting there, in tears on the couch with Tim, I wished more than ever she were there to speak up for me, to use her warm, raspy voice to explain the unexplainable. A tornado whirled in my mind and picked up random snippets of thoughts, parcels of images. Caught in the violent spinning, I couldn’t work out what to say, so I just whispered, “I fuck things up. It’s what I do.”

“Everyone fucks up. It’s called being human,” he opened his hands, palms up on his lap and looked at me with pleading, watery eyes.

“Yeah, maybe, but you should be with someone who doesn’t fuck up quite as much as I do,” I wiped my nose on the cuff of my sleeve.

Tim shook his head and sniffled. “I don’t want anyone else.”

“And I don’t want to hurt you,” I whispered. I wiped my eyes with my cold, clammy fingertips and tried to convince him this was for the best.

For a moment we sat in silence and I thought we were done. Tim’s voice was soft, almost shy when he asked, “But it was him, wasn’t it? That you were with last night?”

“It was, yeah.”

“Okay, right,” his eyes darted around the room like he was trying to work out a complicated equation. “And have you been with him the whole time,” he swallowed a sob and the rest of his question came out in a trembling burst, “that you’ve been with me?”

“No. Tim, I swear on my grandma’s grave that last night was the first time. And I swear I didn’t want to do this to you. I really did want to be with you. You’re so sweet and I’ve never felt so content and cared for as I have with you. I promise you.” My own words stunned me, mostly because as I heard myself say them I realized how completely true they were. I reached out to wipe away the tears streaming down Tim’s smooth, golden cheeks and he took my hand.

“Then I meant something to you?”

“Of course you did. You do,” I sat so close to him I smelled the coffee on his breath and the woodsy cedar of his deodorant, felt the warmth of his presence. “I wish I could love you.”

“Why can’t we be together then? Call this a one off and start fresh with a better sense of boundaries and communication?”

“Tim!” I moved away from him with a heavy sigh and buried my face in my hands. When I peeked back out at him I whispered, “I can’t. I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m no good for anyone. And I can’t ask you to wait around while I figure shit out. I at least know that.”

He nodded and I watched his Adams apple bob up and down as he swallowed. Picking up his coffee mug, he rose from the sofa and wandered back into my kitchen. A moment after, I followed and found him washing his cup at my sink. He placed it in the drainer as if with the greatest of care, then dried his hands on a blue gingham tea towel. As he reached for his coat, he said, “Tell me, Luce, are you going to be with him? Is that what this is about?”

“Probably not. Like you said, he’s not going to leave the church.”

“So you’d rather be with no one at all than share a life with me?” He laughed sardonically. “Am I really that much of a troll?”

“You’re not a troll at all. You’re wonderful, Tim. And I do care about you, so much. I just don’t want to make promises to you that I can’t keep. You deserve better.”

“Yeah, well you deserve better too,” he said. He rubbed his hand over his face. “And if you can’t see that, then you really are more damaged than I ever could have imagined.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok... so before we jump to any conclusions after this chapter, let me just remind you we still have a little ways left on our journey and your old Aunty Scar still has some tricks up her sleeve. Thank you for continuing to humor me by stroking this beast with your loving attention and comments that give me motivation to inch ever onwards toward the finish line. 
> 
> And now, a note on Lucy and Trauma (with a Capital T): 
> 
> Some readers have observed how contradictory and awful Lucy's behavior can be and is, and how nice people tend to get caught up in her damage. Someone once said to me "pain begets pain" and I've found this to be true. Trauma, especially when left untended and untreated, can cause a whole host of pernicious symptoms and often people who have been through severe trauma can come across as rather unlikeable. The people around them can get caught up in the turbines of their pain while simply trying to love and support them. It can be super hard to watch. 
> 
> Without empathy and understanding of what has created the nasty traumatic sequelae, it is easy to write a person off as horrible, uncaring, selfish. And maybe they are, or maybe they have adapted these traits as skills to survive a world that has been violent to them. I intentionally wanted to make a character who elicited complex emotions and was not unilaterally a sympathetic protagonist, simple victim, or beautiful survivor. I wanted to create her from a trauma informed place where healing is elusive, gritty work and sometimes comes from weird places. 
> 
> Finally, I'm offering all of this as just insight into the character's motivation and not as any sort of defense or lecture. I apologize if some of my responses to comments came across as preachy or defensive. Capital T trauma is a subject I find fascinating and love to explore. I also recognize that there are people from all walks of life reading this story and resonating with it from different ages and stages in their own process of growth and healing. The insight and sharing I've found in your comments have astounded me and I am so humbled by people who have shared personal stories and memories. If anything, I just want to say, I see you, I'm here, I'm listening, and I'm so very grateful you've chosen to spend time with me and my characters. Thank you so much. You all have my heart.


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we are introduced to a brand new character. . . and one who I think we have all been eagerly anticipating for some time.

The first time I met Jenny I didn’t say much. She asked me a couple questions regarding my age, living situation, and occupation, and I burst into a storm of tears that lasted for most of the session.

“I’m so sorry,” I said at the end, trying to hide the wet ball of snot filled tissues I’d accumulated during our visit.

“There’s a waste basket over there,” she said, pointing to a conveniently positioned receptacle at the end of the couch on which I sat. “And please don’t apologize. This is your time and your space. Many people find their first therapy session quite overwhelming.”

I sniffed out a laugh as I chucked the tissue into the basket. It landed with a solid _whump_ I found embarrassing as hell. “I’d like to tell you I’m not normally this much of a disaster, but I actually am. So, you’ve got your work cut out for you, I’m afraid.”

“ _We’ve_ got our work cut out for _us_ ,” she corrected me. “And I am not afraid.” She smiled and her eyes crinkled in a manner reminiscent of a sleepy cat.

I decided almost instantly I liked my new therapist Jenny Thompson.

“I told ya so,” June said when we met for dinner later that week. "I knew you'd hit it off."

“You’ve never even met her,” I rolled my eyes. “How the hell would you know?”

“Well, my mom’s aunty says she’s top notch after she cured her friend’s sister’s agoraphobia and hoarding, so I figured she must be pretty amazing.”

I shoveled a huge mouthful of steak and mashed potato into my mouth. It was the first real meal I’d eaten in weeks. Ever since I broke things off with Tim, I’d had a constant sense of being sick to my stomach, jittery, and on the verge of tears. It lasted long enough for Gabe to notice I was barely managing three bites when we went out to eat and he could count all my ribs when we were in bed. June made me take a pregnancy test. I wasn’t pregnant. If I was gestating anything, it was just an enormous ball of shame and sorrow that was consuming me from the inside, even as it grew.

After Tim left my apartment that day, I’d gone to work, put my head down and gotten through it. Then I went to June’s place and broke down. “He told me I was damaged,” I wept as June held my shaking body on her bed.

“I mean, the man isn’t wrong,” June said softly.

“June!” I exclaimed and a fresh wave of tears overtook me to the point I practically hyperventilated.

She held my face in her hands and stared at me. “Listen, I’ve known you longer than anyone and I know you better than you know yourself. I know where all the bodies are buried and I might not speak up very often, but I worry about you night and day. We all do.”

“Oh my god, fuck this!” I shouted. “The last thing I need right now is a fucking lecture! And from you of all people, June.”

“No, Lucy, the first thing you need right now is a fucking lecture, and I’m apparently the only one here to deliver it! You’ve needed one for months and we are all just too scared to say anything to you.”

“Oh? So now I’m scary?”

“Of course you’re not scary,” June sighed. “We are scared of hurting you. We love you so much.”

I shook my head, pushed her away, and stood up. Jabbing my finger at her I swore, “Fuck that and fuck you! You went along with the whole thing! You egged me on with both Gabe and Tim! You don’t get to get all fucking preachy with me now.”

“That’s fair,” she nodded. “But come on, I thought the priest was a phase and then you hooked up with Tim and that seemed like it was going to be a good thing for you. I didn’t think you were going to make such short work of fucking it up!”

“Are you even serious right now? Fuck this! I’m leaving.”

June stood and grabbed my arm as if she were moving in slow motion. She smiled. “Yeah, no. We’re not doing that, Lucy. I’m not letting you push me away,” she chuckled and squeezed my wrist gently in her warm hand. “I’m the fucking deer tick on your ass in nuclear winter, Babe. You’re stuck with me. So sit the fuck back down while we figure this out.”

She called her mom and obtained the number of a therapist. I’d only been to therapy once in middle school and it hadn’t really made sense to me at the time, so I was dubious it would be helpful or meaningful now. I shoved the number in my bag and carried on with my business, working, running, avoiding Tim, ignoring Raffe, not eating, and yes, seeing Gabe.

In the strange, dark, self-imposed misery my life had become, seeing Gabe was the only small consolation I knew. Our relationship had changed along with everything else in my life, and I wasn’t certain if I had shaped it that way, or if I completely lacked control over any aspect of it. We snuck around for meals here and there on the outskirts of town, and enjoyed frequent sexual encounters, heated with urgency, guilt, and desperation. He’d make me come until I was tired enough to sleep, until I was too tired to care about his staying over, until I lacked the faintest spark of energy to argue with him about leaving the church.

On the night he noticed my ribs, we were in my bed. He ran his fingers over and in between them and I felt his body rise and fall in a sigh as if we were floating on water. The motion of it frightened me, as did the words that came next, “You’ve got me worried, Lucia.”

“You know, Gabe,” I groaned and rolled over onto my stomach so he couldn’t touch my bony torso. “After ‘We should talk,’ I’ve found that ‘I’m worried about you’ is the most ominous conversation starter. So, if we could just skip it, that would be great.”

For a while he just massaged slow circles on the small of my back which felt really nice. I thought maybe I’d fall asleep like that, but he spoke again. “I don’t know what’s going on with you anymore. You seem different.”

“Different?”

“I dunno, like far away. I used to feel so close to you when we made love, but now it feel almost like it’s just a perfunctory race to the finish for you.”

“Or finishes?” I tried to joke.

He pulled me against him and held me. “I know I hurt you terribly. I feel it too. It’s like something within us broke or tore, and when it got put back together it was reassembled differently.” His breath tickled my shoulder. “But I still love you.”

It was strange to hear him articulate the way I felt, like I was hearing it from a version of him concocted by my own subconscious in a dream. “I still love you too, Gabe,” I said.

“Do you?”

“Of course,” I said. “And you don’t need to worry about me, I’m going to therapy now.”

“Oh? Is that right? You didn’t tell me.”

“Well, I’m telling you now. Anyway, I just started, so everyone can relax while I pull my fucking self together.” I felt him wince at the sharp edge of my tone. The next morning, I dug the paper with the number June’s mom had given me on it out of my bag. I called and scheduled an appointment. At the very least, it would shut up everyone and keep them from starting conversations about how worried they were about me.

On my second session with Jenny, one of the first things I announced to her was, “I don’t intend to stop seeing him, so if that’s going to be a deal breaker, then you should probably let me know now.”

She blinked her bright hazel eyes. She was wearing an ancient-looking, thick, red cardigan with little black scottie dogs on it. It closed in the middle of her chest with large, silver clasps. Jenny was short and rather plump, but the sweater was large and made her look almost tiny. The color of her sweater made her eyes appear more green than gray or brown, but I was aware of their changeable nature. On that particular day, her short, Princess Diana hairstyle was fluffier than it had been on our previous session. I took all of these details into consideration while I waited for her to cross and uncross her legs and say, “A dealbreaker for who, Lucy?”

“Well, for you,” I was confused.

“And why would that be a dealbreaker for me?” Her voice was soft, almost teasing. I didn’t know how to answer. I opened and closed my mouth. She saw me struggling and graciously stepped in, saying, “Help me understand. Do you have a concern that there would be a certain judgement in this space about your relationship with Gabriel? Or are you worried I would not want to work with you because of your choice to continue it?”

“I mean, yeah.” I shrugged. “I guess.”

“Ah. Okay. Well, that’s not the way therapy works, at least not in my practice,” she said. She had lovely hands that she laid on top of her thighs as she said this, like she was giving them a little pat of reassurance. Her fingers were nothing special. They were rather short and plump like the rest of her, but something about the way they moved conveyed grace and tenderness. I was so captivated watching them it startled me when she continued. “You must know lots of people come to counseling for help with relationships of one kind or another, Lucy. If we made it a prerequisite that people stop whatever problematic relationship they were in, hardly anyone would be in a relationship at all! And I doubt people would want to come to therapy if we forced them to isolate themselves from people they cared about as a prerequisite for treatment.” She chuckled lightly.

“I guess that makes sense.” I said slowly. Something about it felt tricky. Jenny sensed my skepticism.

“You sound dubious,” she observed.

“Well, it’s just that everyone else in my life would rather I end the relationship and walk away from him, from Gabe.”

“But you aren’t ready to do that.”

“Nope. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to do that, but I also wonder if it’ll completely destroy my life. I dunno, maybe if June goes to Australia to be with her girlfriend I’ll tag along. They have marine life in Australia I can study.”

“That certainly would be a choice,” Jenny said. “Although in my experience, you typically take yourself wherever you go, unresolved issues and all.”

“I suppose that’s true,” I exhaled. “I think you could send me to the moon and I’d still love him. And it would still hurt not to be with him.”

“Is that what you want? To have a long term relationship with him?”

I thought about Jenny’s question, really thought about it. “I don’t know,” I said at last. “It’s like there were all these amazing moments in the beginning, sort of like out of a fairy tale. And I think I’ve spent all this energy trying to get back to that dreamy space, but the more I try the worse it gets.”

“It sounds like what you two have doesn’t really have the space for relational growth, perhaps?”

“Maybe, but there is still something so strong and solid when we are together,” I insisted. “It’s like we have these jagged edges that just click together and make something beautiful and perfect. When I’ve been with him I’ve felt loved and safe for the first time ever.”

“That seems at odds with how you feel when you are apart from him,” Jenny offered.

“Yeah,” I scoffed. “So, what does that mean? Should I do what my friends want and break it off for good?”

Jenny smiled indulgently. “I’m not suggesting that at all, Lucy. If you told me you were in physical danger from this relationship, believe me, I would be singing a different tune, but that's not what I hear you saying. I believe we learn a lot about ourselves from our relationships with others, good or bad, healthy or unhealthy. Perhaps if we figure out what purpose this relationship serves for you, you’ll be able to see it differently? Or not. It’s all part of the journey.”

“Hmph, that sounds nice. . .”

“But?”

“Well, I guess I just wish my journey didn’t end up fucking over so many people,” I said, then added, “sorry, I didn’t mean to swear.”

“It’s okay. You can express yourself however you need to in here with me. I’ve often found a well placed F-bomb to be highly effective.” She made the crinkly cat face at me. “As for not fucking people over, I believe if that is a value you identify as important, then we decide here and now to commit to it and find ways to chose behaviors that help you continue moving toward that value.”

“Yeah, that also sounds nice,” I sighed.

“But?”

“Easier said than done.”

“Hah! It all is, Lucy. Please don’t expect that you’ll leave here today and suddenly be a master at this stuff. It’s all a work in progress and it takes a lot of time and patience. You’ve lived a life of incredible trauma for so many years. You need time to heal, to reset, to repair. The rest will start to make sense as we go,” she paused and cleared her throat. “That is, if you decide to come back?”

“I want to,” I nodded and started crying. Jenny silently handed me a box of tissues from which I plucked a handful. She waited patiently, wordlessly while I doubled over and wept on her couch. When I stopped crying, I was almost scared to look at her again, but I was glad I did. Her green-gray eyes held mine with their sparkly shine, and she gave me a small, but compassionate smile. “I just feel like such a mess all the time,” I sighed. “I don’t remember ever not feeling like a mess.”

“In your whole life?”

“No. Not really. Except when I was with Gabe. I mean, I was still messy, obviously, but he made me feel important and powerful despite my messiness. Like I could be loved in spite of it somehow? And like I could change his life just by being in it.” I blew my nose and shook my head with a bitter laugh. “That probably makes zero sense.”

“I think it actually tracks pretty clearly, given what you’ve shared with me.” She asked me how I was feeling after everything we talked about. “We covered a lot of ground today. You did some great work. You should feel really proud.”

“Gosh, I think pride and I have never really been on intimate terms with one another,” I said, but my smile was genuine.

“We are all struggling pilgrims, Lucy,” Jenny said with a wink that made me feel like I was in a children’s book.

I left her office that day feeling lighter. It felt like all the tears I’d shed turned into birds attached to me with invisible thread. They flew from me and held me just an inch or so off the ground as I walked along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait to hear what you guys thought of Jenny and about this chapter! 
> 
> Also, as a side note, I went back and started doing some minor (but important) edits on the first few chapters for clarity, continuity, and cleanliness of the prose. As this has been a work in progress, and was basically written from start to finish in my mind with some chunky holes in transitional spots, there were definitely some places where going back and tidying things up was imperative. I hopefully will be able to go back and do some more tinkering at some point. Also, wow, I cannot believe you guys have put up with my writing for this long. You all deserve awards!!! 
> 
> I love youuuuu!!!!!


	54. Chapter 54

Gabe’s new secretary, Tracey, was Linda’s polar opposite. She was roughly the same age, but that was where any similarity began and ended. Tracey seemed interested only in typing, filing, and answering phones, which she did with quiet competence. She did not seem to have any desire whatsoever to monitor Father Gideon’s comings and goings, or to administer the third degree to any of his appointments. She didn’t find it the slightest bit odd or concerning that the parish rector was offering music theory lessons to one student in particular, every Wednesday at noon.

It started as a lark. I had a dark curiosity to meet Linda 2.0. Gabe reluctantly agreed when I offered to bring him lunch on his long day, the day he was kept at the church hearing confessions until nearly nine at night.

“Did you pick her?” I asked Gabe as he let me into his office and shut the door behind us.

“Not exactly,” he said and explained she’d been supplied by a staffing agency. “She’s not a parishioner. I wanted to avoid any more tricky boundary issues.”

“Boundary issues, right,” I said and set our lunch out on a low table in the little meeting area of his office. “What business did you tell her I was here on?”

Gabe cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “Music theory?” He found his remote, clicked on some music and turned it up. “Are you familiar with Bach? You probably are and don’t realize it. He’s a composer of the Baroque era. This is one of his most well known pieces, the Brandenburg Concerto, well this is part of it anyway. An Allegro.” The music was a bright and cheerful blend of violins and harpsichord.

“Can you play this?” I asked as I unwrapped my sandwich.

“Not expertly. When I was in Italy, I had access to a beautiful harpsichord at the church. I dabbled.” He smiled stiffly. He seemed nervous and awkward and not like the version of him I was accustomed to. I tried, but couldn’t imagine him in Italy making his fingers dance over the ornate keys of a harpsichord. I asked him to come sit with me on the couch in front of the table where I’d put our lunch. We ate sandwiches and chips with minuets and sonatas turned up loud enough to make it sound like he could possibly be teaching me something. He asked me about work and I told him my students were getting restless after returning from spring break. Our chatter was friendly and informative, but it had an odd quality to me, as if being in his office made us strangers to one another, speaking through panes of glass. It made me frustrated and anxious. After nibbling around the edges of my turkey and Swiss, I straddled his lap. It took him by surprise.

“Ohhh, Father,” I whispered, lowering my mouth to his ear. “How big and hard you are.”

“Lucia, we really shouldn’t. Not here,” he said, but put his hands on my hips and rocked me back and forth over the protrusion in his trousers.

“Relax. All the shades are drawn. No one can see us.”

“Baby, no.”

“ _Father_ , yes.”

“Don’t call me that. I’ve told you not to call me that,” he said, but for his protestations, he caressed my waist and breasts. “It isn’t right. You’re going to get me in trouble.”

“Then let’s be quick,” I giggled. “Let’s do it before this song ends.” I reached for his buckle. “What’s this piece?”

“Unnff, it’s a violin Concerto,” he moaned. “I can’t remember specifically which one!” He put his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes as I took him out and stroked him. His cock trembled in my grasp. His mouth opened and closed in a few quiet, needy sighs which pleased me. Quickly, before he could change his mind, I undid my trousers and kicked out of a leg. I left my panties on and just pulled them to the side as I straddled him again, because I knew he found it inexplicably hot when I did that.

“Feel how wet I am and you didn’t even do anything to me,” I whimpered as I sank down on top of him. His hands were at his sides, as though he were taking it very passively, but his hips jerked back and bucked forward to meet mine as I ground down on him and he breathed out something between a sigh and a groan. I grabbed one of his hands and shoved it up under my shirt. He grabbed my breast and squeezed it eagerly enough and I bit my lips to keep from crying out as I rode him into a fast climax. Just sitting next to him had been foreplay. The man didn’t even have to touch me and I was ready to throb around him. I swallowed all my savage and lusty noises. Trying to be quiet aroused a strange tension, and I came again, breathing hard against his neck. “You fuck me so good with your big, thick cock,” I whispered hotly in his ear.

“Faster,” he gasped and I sped up. His head was still back and his eyes were squeezed shut. I leaned over him and licked the seam of his mouth, met his tongue with mine as it came out between his lips and his pace beneath me became more fevered and erratic. “ _Fuu. . fuck, fuck,_ ” he swore and came with a long, animalistic grunt and series of sharp thrusts. I rubbed my cheek against his beard and nuzzled his neck.

“Mmmmmh, you sexy devil. That was really hot,” I said, my voice soft and sated. “And see? The song hasn’t even ended yet.”

“Hmm, well it is one of Bach’s longer pieces,” he grumbled and pushed me off of his lap. He tucked himself away and stood to straighten his pants and shirt. I also threaded my leg back from whence it came and watched him pace the length of his office.

“What? You didn’t enjoy it? Cuz it seems like you did.” I chided.

He looked at me with a furrowed brow, shoved his glasses up on his nose and I realized he hadn’t even taken them off when we fucked. “Doing that here just doesn’t feel right to me. I’m sorry. It just doesn’t.”

“Cognitive dissonance?” I chewed the inside of my cheek.

“Yeah. You could say that.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“What difference does it make where we do it? Are you going to go to a deeper circle of hell because we did it in church, Father?”

“Lucy, _please_ ,” he said and walked behind his desk. It felt like he had placed a large, rectangular barrier between us. For some reason, it didn’t feel like I should walk around to the other side of his desk. He sat down in his desk chair as if he were completely exhausted. “I condemned myself a long time ago.”

“Melodramatic, but whatever.” I scoffed. “Well, I have a little secret I’ll share with you. There really is no such thing as hell. Hell is right here. This is it. We create it for ourselves and live it out day by day,” I busied myself with cleaning up our lunch trash. “Welcome to hell,” I muttered.

“Is it possible going to therapy has made you even more jaded?” His voice was filled with confusion, with hopelessness.

I looked at him and thought about all the little candles alight and flickering with prayers and hope in the small chapel at the back of the church. “Going to therapy has made me more accepting of who I am,” I answered and I liked thinking that my tongue flickered with a bright orange and yellow flame.

My words were true. I’d been meeting with Jenny at least once, sometimes twice a week. During one session, she asked me what I liked about myself.

“Um, nothing much,” I answered almost instantly.

“That seems like sort of a quick and lazy answer,” she challenged. “Think about it, Lucy. What are you good at?”

I gave it a moment of serious reflection before I answered. “I’m intense, which I guess can be a good thing or a bad thing, but when it works in my favor it helps me get things done, like school and work. I’m a hard worker. I love my job and my studies. And my students seem to like me.”

“Fantastic!” Jenny clapped her hands together. She was wearing a green turtle neck and her eyes were much more green, speckled with flecks of silver and a fiery ring of amber. Her eyes were mesmerizing. “What else?”

“My friends are great people. I don’t know why they love me or stick around me, but they do.”

“So, you’ve managed to cultivate some deep and meaningful relationships.”

“Yeah, despite my best attempts to fuck them all up with my bullshit,” I said. I was getting much more comfortable expressing myself authentically with my therapist.

“Could that be perhaps because you are in fact a lovable human?” She cocked her head and I could tell she was teasing me, but it made me feel warm and glad that she felt she could risk a little humor with me. In response, I playfully shrugged and rolled my eyes. “We are always our harshest critics, aren’t we?” Her voice was low and warm.

“I dunno, Jenny, I think I’m worthy of some pretty harsh criticism for some of the stuff I’ve done.”

“Like what?”

I told her about Tim. I had told her about him before in broad strokes, but on this particular session, I told her about how deeply I hurt him and how confusing and sad it felt for me. “I felt things with him that were really nice, you know? Like it wasn’t wild or earth shattering. It was just nice in a white picket fence, warm apple pie kind of way.” To my surprise I started crying and had to stop talking.

“You’re having a feeling,” Jenny observed. “What is it?”

“Confusion? I don’t know why I couldn’t just fall in love with him. Everyone said he was perfect for me, and I think maybe he was, but I just couldn’t do it. It was like this unholy force dragged me back to Gabe.”

“Yeah, that makes a lot of sense,” Jenny nodded and her golden hair bobbed up and down.

“It does? How?”

“People who have been traumatized grow accustomed to living in chaos. It becomes their baseline state. For people without trauma, when they experience stress, they have a response that is similar to a faucet being turned on and turned off after a discreet period of time. They feel the fear or stress or whatever and then go back to their “normal”. For an individual with complex trauma, the stress response basically gets turned on and left on. The faucet doesn’t get turned off. For them, if that faucet, or response, gets turned off for whatever reason, it feels more distressing and unfamiliar than the chaos. They might find themselves panicking or feeling like something is amiss when things are calm and safe. There might be an unconscious drive to create chaos to return to the familiar baseline. Your nervous system is so hyper-vigilant all the time that it feels more alarming to you when things slow down because you are emotionally trained to be expecting the next chaotic attack. It’s no wonder being with a calm and safe man like Tim felt unfamiliar and bewildering to you, Lucy. And it’s completely understandable that you weren’t ready for it. Furthermore, it’s not surprising in the least that you had an urge to recreate your familiar baseline.”

“That’s so fucked up!” I shouted and pounded my fists on my thighs. “That’s so _unbelievably fucked up!_ ”

“It sure can feel that way, huh?” Jenny said. “But you’re a scientist, Lucy, and at a very basic level it is really just the body’s scientific drive for survival.”

“You mean like fight or flight? Lizard brain?”

“Yup. Something like that.” Jenny’s eyes twinkled as she regarded me. “You’ve been trying your hardest to survive in the ways you know how. Now you’re learning some new ways. One of those ways is to accept what happened to you and make room for the things you’ve had to do to cope.”

“It seems like a big excuse to say I’m just making room for fucking someone over cuz I was trying to survive someone else fucking me over. That just seems like the snake eating its tail.”

“Well, I can’t speak for any of those other people. You’re the person sitting in front of me and you’re the person who has an opportunity to take the tail out of the snake’s mouth. Better yet, take a good look inside the snake’s mouth and see there’s nothing in there that can really hurt you anymore because you’ve _survived_ and you get to start fresh.”

“Who knew there would be so many reptile metaphors in counseling,” I joked sourly. “But honestly, why should I get a fresh start?”

“Help me out if I’m missing something here, Lucy, but what good does it do you or Tim or Gabe or anyone if you torture yourself endlessly over something you can’t change now?” Jenny’s brow flicked up as she smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

A new flood of hot tears washed over my cheeks. "I’m so mad at myself for what I did to Tim. The most fucked up part is that the entire time I was with him, I loved it, but I knew, I just knew, I was going to screw it up. It’s like I sabotaged it just to prove I could. And I knew it would hurt him, but I also didn’t know, if that makes any sense?” I wept violently. “I miss him a lot. He’s so nice and I really miss him.”

Jenny considered this information and clasped her hands over her solar plexus. “You know, Tim is still on the planet. You could contact him.”

“Oh, God no! I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing I don’t deserve to have even a second of his time after what I did to him. And for another thing, I’m still seeing Gabe, so I don’t want to send a mixed signal.”

“You made a mistake because you are imperfect because you are human,” Jenny said softly. “But you are still deserving of people’s love and affection and attention.”

“Jury is still out on that one,” I groused.

“From what you’ve told me about Tim, it seems he would have forgiven you. And everyone else in your life has forgiven you. Do you think you’ll be able to accept your human flaws and forgive yourself?”

“I don’t know,” I answered. So, we began working on finding ways to accept and enjoy myself, even as I did fucked up and contradictory things like screwing Gabe in his office during lunch.

In a way I recognized was very weird and backward, I thought therapy was sort of like going to confession. I could act on my impulses, even if they were capricious and wrong, but then I could unpack and examine them in the safety of Jenny’s office. It wasn’t absolution. It was a very slow and subtle move toward understanding and forgiving myself. There was no way I could wipe the slate clean, but I could at least know the rationale for what I’d put there.

Later that week, I disclosed to Jenny about the lunch encounter in Gabe’s office. “He told me I was becoming more jaded,” I mentioned. “When we first met he’d asked me how someone so young became so jaded. I bought him a chunk of jade in the shape of a heart. It seemed super romantic at the time- giving him my heart, not him calling me jaded.”

“What do you think he meant by that? By saying you were more jaded?”

I thought of the look of despair that pulled his face into guilty creases even before we even pulled our pants up. “He was responding to something I said about hell being our situation here and now on earth,” I said. “I think I said it because I was annoyed he was sad after we fucked.” It was the first time I’d broached this subject with Jenny and I glanced at her face to see if she’d reacted in any way, but she simply looked calm and curious.

“Were you trying to be provocative, trying to get a reaction from him?”

“Maybe?”

“What were you feeling, Lucy?”

Taking a deep breath, I thought back to the moment in his office. “Empty. Disappointed. Sexually satisfied. Lonely. And sort of annoyed, like I said. I wanted him to be warm and fuzzy, to cuddle me and say it was all right, but he just walked behind his desk and got all distant.”

“Is there any way you were trying to get him to feel all of those very complex and conflicting emotions by telling him he was in a living hell of his own making right there and then?” Jenny suggested in a buttery voice.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Yup.”

Gabe wouldn’t return my calls for a week after the lunch date. When we finally spoke, he passed it off as having been monumentally busy with church stuff. “Cool,” I said. “So, it has nothing to do with us fucking in your church and me saying you were living in hell?” I could hear Jenny’s silky voice sliding in the shadows of my mind, asking me what I was trying to get him to feel. No. What are you really feeling, Lucy?

“It’s not right, Lucy,” Gabe sighed heavily. “The way I want you. I think of you to distraction. I want you in all places at all times. When I’m on the altar celebrating the eucharist I think of your breasts and I’m practically hard while giving communion! It’s depraved! You’re like a stain on my soul. I want to fuck you in the middle of funerals and when I’m hearing confessions. It’s not right! It’s killing me! Can you wonder why I want a little space, a few days peace from this living hell as you put it?”

When I told Jenny about this, she was quiet after for much longer than she normally was. Her silence started to make me nervous. Then she asked me, “Where do you see this relationship going, Lucy?”

I hadn’t the slightest clue.

In bed, I asked Gabe the same question. “Where do you see this going?” We’d finished fucking and I was lying on top of him, nuzzling his neck and licking his nipples. "Us?"

“To be honest? Nowhere. This is it. I see us continuing like this until you meet someone else and fall in love and destroy me. You’ll be the one who gets out alive, but I’ll be okay with it.” He had a hand on the small of my back and he cradled my neck. His words did not match the tenderness with which he held me.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Gabe,” I hissed. “That is maybe the darkest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

“That says something, doesn’t it?” He kissed my shoulder.

“Oh, god Gabe,” I sighed. “I’ve been in dark places. You know I have, but this moment right here and now might be just as dark as any of them.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said and kissed my collar bone but it was more like he was trying to inhale it. “You’re still my breath, you make my heart beat, you are this tiny pocket of reality in a life that otherwise seems lifeless.”

“It’s a very deep, dark reality then,” I pulled his face up to mine and made him kiss me.

Darkness aside, it didn’t keep me from going back to his office for music theory class the following Wednesday. And the Wednesday after that.


	55. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of a roller coaster, so bear with me!! I'm pretty sure it will make sense in the end.

Tim’s call surprised me.

We’d been distant and avoidant of one another since our break. Or, I guess I should say, since I broke things off with him. Since we were no longer working on any grants, there was really no reason for us to meet. Our departments rarely, if ever, crossed paths, so there was very little chance of us running into one another on campus.

“It is positively intolerable,” Raffe griped to me one evening. We’d met for cocktails and tapas at a little bistro in the village, just the two of us. “I’m not going to say that you broke up our family, Honey, but Frankie and I are beside ourselves!”

“I don’t know how many times I can apologize,” I said and covered his hand with my own. He was warm and soft like a kitten. It was the first time I’d spent any meaningful time with him since I’d split with Tim. It was mid April and I had a little over a month of therapy under my belt, which wasn’t a lot but felt like I’d travelled through entire galaxies of myself. Reaching out to people I’d avoided was a step in my path toward recovery. Raffe had been overjoyed to get my call and was making reservations online for this hot new place before we even got off the phone.

“Oh, Sweetie, you don’t have to apologize. I just missed you is all. It’s one thing for you and _you-know-who_ to not be together anymore, but it’s just awful that we can’t all hang out together anymore. You know?” He rambled amiably. He picked up my hand and kissed it. “I know we joke about you and _He-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named-Your-Perfect-Soul-Mate,_ but really really really Babygirl, we just want you to be happy and okay.”

“I am sorry though,” I sighed and sipped the wine he’d chosen. It was robust and complimented the mushroom and olive toast points and rocket salad shots nicely.

“You’ve never seen anyone so sad,” Raffe shook his head, sighed heavily, and to my surprise, I found he wasn’t even being hyperbolic. “Lulee, he’s like a little lost dog. I think he will wait forever for you to come home to him.”

“Oh, god, I truly hope not,” I exhaled.

So, on that Saturday afternoon, when Tim finally called, I dreaded what he’d actually say to me. I was prepared to tell him not to wait and to just go home, like the lost dog Raffe had described. But although I could tell he was choked up on the other end of the phone line, unrequited love was not the reason for his call.

“Luce, I’m sorry to bother you,” he started and I heard him sniff.

“It’s no bother. What’s up?”

“It’s Luke.”

A couple hours later, I met him at the gates of the aquarium. “Hey there,” I said and we hugged one another. Tim’s familiar smell of woodsy spice, turpentine, paint, and saltwater filled me like sustenance I didn’t even know I’d been craving. “Gosh, I’m so sorry. Thanks for calling me.”

“Of course,” he said. He looked sad and tired, but he wasn’t crying and his eyes didn’t look puffy or red, so he must have pulled himself together pretty well before meeting me. I couldn’t deny my relief. After our last encounter, I didn't think I could bear seeing him overcome with emotion. He led me through the hallways to the behind the scenes area of Luke’s tank. An aquatic specialist I’d never met there, spoke quietly with Luke’s head keeper. Tim greeted the men and they shook hands. The lid of Luke’s tank was already open at the top of the platform, but no one was up there. This was shockingly unusual. Octopuses are tenacious escape artists, and if they are not kept carefully enclosed, they can and will leave their tanks and cause a ruckus. At some aquariums, there have been reports of octopuses leaving their tanks to go and poach fish from other tanks. While amazing and sort of hilarious, this can also be hugely dangerous to the animal because if they cannot get back into their tank for whatever reason, they will die.

Luke’s tank was open because no one needed to worry about him escaping anymore, and this fact was more devastating than the prospect of him getting out.

Tim and I walked up the steps of the platform and peered into the chilly depths.

For all its incredible strength of body and brilliance of mind, an octopus does not live very long. They might live slightly longer in captivity where they are protected from natural predators, and fed a delicious and balanced diet, but their lives are typically not much longer than a couple years. Luke had lapsed into the final stage of his life, senescence. It was basically like elderly dementia for an octopus. Over a period of weeks, he’d become confused and disoriented. He’d become disinterested in playing or exploring any of his enrichment activities, and then he lost interest in eating. At the bottom of his tank, he’d changed from fiery oranges and reds, from deep browns and grays, to a pale white that didn’t shift or blend at all no matter with what object or food he was stimulated.

“Oh, Buddy!” I cried when I saw the pathetic lump of him curled tight against the coral at the base of his enclosure. I bit my lip and blinked hard, but it was impossible to stem the tears that flowed from me. “When? How? How much longer?”

“No one can say for sure,” Tim said evenly. “Probably a few more days. Maybe a week. But he’s been a good old guy and he’s had a nice life here, hasn’t he.”

“Yeah,” I whispered in a shuddering breath. We watched him from where we stood. I pushed up my sleeve and sank my arm down into his frigid tank as far as I could, even though I knew Luke wouldn’t reach up to encircle my wrist with his tentacle. I even grabbed a shrimp and tried to entice him by waving it around under the water, but no dice. Luke had a ghastly pallor, but the most haunting thing about him was how still he was. Only the thin strips of skin sloughing off him undulated delicately in the current of his tank. I kept my hand in the water until it was numb and wondered if there was any part of him that could taste my sorrow through the water. Drying off my hand and arm, I wondered what sorrow would taste like, if it would be salty like tears, like the sea. I shivered from the chill of having been partially immersed in the water, but the shivering didn’t stop and I realized I was crying.

“It’s a strange species to form such a profound attachment to, right? There aren’t a lot of people who would understand it,” Tim said quietly. “That’s why I called you. I mean, I knew you’d want to say goodbye, but I also knew you’d know how I was feeling.” He shrugged and swallowed what might have been a lump in his throat. I didn’t need the extra sensory perception of an octopus to understand exactly what Tim felt. I nodded and swiped at my tears.

“I’m so sorry. I’m just. . . I’m so sad,” I turned toward Luke, then back to Tim. He reached down and took my hand. He wasn’t looking at me though, he was looking into the tank and I saw his eyes widen as he tightened his grip on my hand. I looked back into the water and Luke came bubbling up to the surface, his white mantle billowing around him like a ghost. He blinked one of his great yellow eyes at us and unfurled a long, silvery tentacle. Then he sank slowly back to his resting place alongside the coral. It was unbelievable. Tim and I looked at one another breathlessly, as if questioning if it even really happened. Quietly crying, Tim and I held one another atop the platform while we said goodbye to Luke.

Tim walked me to my car. “You okay to drive?” He asked. I’d been sniffling and obviously trying not to cry and failing miserably.

“I am,” I laughed bitterly. “It’s just really sad, isn’t it?”

“It is.” Tim agreed. For a moment, we stood by my car in the cool April evening. The sky was streaked with a dozen shades of red, orange, pink, and purple.

“Tim, I am so sorry I hurt you,” I said.

“Ahh, it’s okay. People can heal from hurts. Can’t they?”

“Trying all the time,” I tried to sound breezy, although I felt anything but. I wanted to ask if he still loved me. It seemed irrelevant, and yet part of me still longed to know. “I’m glad that you’ve been able to heal and move on.”

“I dunno if I would say I’ve moved on, exactly,” Tim chuckled and blushed. “But I mean, I’m doing okay. I really have missed you though, Luce,” he sighed. “I could understand that you didn’t want to be with me, even though it sucked, but what really hurt was that you didn’t even want to be friends.”

“Honestly, I couldn’t imagine you wanting to be friends with me,” I shrugged. My mind grappled for something more to say. I didn’t want the moment to end. I didn’t want to just get into my car and drive off, but for the life of me, I couldn’t find a single topic of conversation that seemed appropriate to the situation. Tim shuffled his feet and laughed lightly. “What?” I asked.

“I miss watching you do those little things you do when you’re lost in thought,” he said. He touched my lower lip with his thumb. “The way you bite your lip and play with this fluffy hair at your neck.” He touched my fingers which were indeed twirling the fine strands that had fallen free of the bun I’d put my hair in while we were in the aquarium. As if he suddenly realized what he was doing, he jerked his hand away from me and shoved it into the pocket of his jacket. “How could anyone not want to be friends with you, Luce?”

“Are you serious?” I scoffed. “How much time do you have?”

In his infinite good nature, Tim grinned. “I’m free for dinner now.”

I looked up at the sky and followed a path of golden clouds that bled into ever darkening blue, then I glanced nervously around the parking lot. “I don’t know,” I said slowly. I was meeting Gabe, but not until much later.

“No pressure,” Tim said. “Another time. We can have dinner or coffee or something another time.”

“No, now!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Yup, let’s definitely go get something to eat right now,” I said and hadn’t a single clue what my hesitation had been about in the first place. We chose a small pub in the village and settled into a booth with enormous beers and burgers as big as our heads. Tim spoke easily and cheerfully about his classes, his students, and some of the work he was attempting in his spare time. “Did you ever finish the Luke triptych?” I asked reverently.

“Ehh, I think that will always be a work in progress, but it’s sort of therapeutic to tinker with now and again. It’s kind of like visiting an old friend.” We raised our glasses to Luke. The mention of Tim’s art being therapeutic almost made me want to tell him I’d started therapy of my own, but before I got a chance Tim asked, “So, are you still seeing the, uh, priest?”

I exhaled a whoosh of air as I nodded. “I am, yeah.”

“How’s that going?” His face pinched with what I guessed was inquisitive concern. I considered the question and considered my answer. It didn’t seem exactly right to reply that my relationship with Gabe had turned into practically feral fucking whenever possible with little to no conversation. If there was a lack of insight into what we were currently doing, there was even less of a view into our future, which we both had agreed seemed cloudy at best and dark at worst. That just sounded hopeless and nonsensical. Who in their right mind would want that?

How could I possibly answer how it was going? I recalled lying in Gabe’s arms early that very morning before he snuck out of my bed to go home and get ready for his day in his church. The tenderness of our touching was almost torture when we both knew the day would tear us apart and force us into completely separate universes, exiled from one another.

There was no way to succinctly describe the sheer willpower it took to swallow tears every second of every day, the forceful determination needed to ignore the pain always throbbing just below the surface like coils of scar tissue, and the artful resolve necessary for staying silent when all I wanted was to scream and howl. Who on earth would understand why I would want to scream or why I felt pain and isolation? I had no right to complain or cry about any of those things because it was what I chose. It didn’t matter that it didn’t make sense to me; somehow my brain managed to blur the edges of the pain by sleeping with Gabe.

But no one else could possibly understand it, so there truly was no way to explain how it was going, other than to shrug and say, “It is what it is.”

“I always hated that expression,” Tim sniffed with a sad smile. “But as long as you’re okay, that’ all that matters, Luce.”

I nodded and took a few gulps of my beer to avoid direct eye contact for a moment. Was I alright? In some ways I was doing just fine. The situation with Gabe was more or less predictable and as long as I bit my tongue about any plans further than the end of any given day, I reaped the rewards of his company several times a week. It was enough to stave off the darkness and despair, to make me fuzzy and free within the comfort and confines of his body. I thought of how he’d tell me he could breathe while he was inside of me, while he was kissing me, while his fingers roamed over my skin. It made sense to me, in my own way. As long as we had our connection, I could focus on the other things I needed to do. Work. Friends. I had even started running again. But after several days, I’d start getting edgy, going out of my mind longing for him.

I asked Jenny if she thought I had a sex addiction. “You mean to Gabriel? Why do you ask?”

“Well, I remember learning in a psych class that at a certain point an addict doesn’t go to their drug of choice to get high any longer but to stave off withdrawal,” I started to explain. “It sort of feels that way with Gabe sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, the sex still feels amazing. It’s crazy how good it feels. But I mean, emotionally, it’s just so different now. I still love him, but it definitely isn’t the way it was in the beginning.”

“Relationships do change in intensity over time. That can be a normal progression,” Jenny offered.

“Maybe? But this just feels like this intense need for a connection and then when I get there part of me shuts down and it’s almost totally physical.”

“Are you saying you feel like it’s become habitual for you? Or do I hear you saying that a part of you shuts down from connecting with Gabriel?”

I thought about her question before answering, “Both things, I think.”

“I wonder if the shutting down could be a defense mechanism for you? A tendency to dissociate and not get too close thereby avoiding emotional trauma later on?” Jenny’s eyes widened as she delivered her amazingly accurate hypothesis. In the confines of her office, with its eau de nil walls and Scandinavian styled furniture, it made perfect sense to me. But out in the world at large, it seemed impossibly complicated and unwieldy to explain.

And that’s because it was impossible.

I wanted it all. I wanted my life, but I also wanted a life with Gabe because somehow in knowing Gabe, I knew myself and my life made sense. I wanted the deep and tangled emotional connection that bound us in knots from which we could not untie ourselves, yet I also wanted to protect whatever gnarled shreds of sanity and dignity I had left. So, to that end, I settled for rambunctious, dirty, increasingly vulgar sex over which I felt I had dominion. I cherished the marks it left on my flesh, and the shadows of sensation that lingered in places no one knew but me and the man who put them there.

It was dark. It was desperate. It was ours.

Setting my beer on its coaster, I smiled at Tim, “I’m doing pretty much okay, I guess. Some days are better than others.”

“Can I ask you something, Luce?”

“Of course you can,” I said around a mouthful of fries.

“Well, I always wanted to know, and you don’t have to answer, but do you two love each other?”

“We do, yeah,” I answered softly, but without hesitation. “In our own ways, we do love each other. I know it doesn’t make sense. I wish I could explain it better, but I can’t.”

Tim wrapped his hands around his glass and looked into its dregs for a long moment’s contemplation. When he looked back up at me, his face was sweet and guileless. “He means that much to you, huh?”

“Everything,” I whispered. “He means everything.” Saying it to Tim made me feel more vulnerable than I had earlier that morning when I was physically in Gabe’s arms and I wondered about this, but not for too long because Tim spoke up again.

“I’m just glad he loves you. You deserve love and sometimes it comes in strange places.”

“That it does indeed!” I chuckled and we raised our glasses to love.

It grew late without us even realizing it. Tim walked me to my car and gave me a warm hug. “You seem different somehow, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” I said. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah, it’s a good thing. You seem like the same girl I fell for at first sight, but you also seem like you’re a little more grounded and like maybe you’re not hiding from stuff as much as you were. It’s awesome.”

“I’ll tell my therapist you said so. She’ll be happy to hear it,” I laughed.

“Hey, if it’s therapy that’s helping you tap into your inner power, then I’m all for it,” Tim grinned. “Maybe you could discuss at your next session whether or not we could maybe do this again some time?”

“Tim, I don’t need to talk to my therapist about that,” I punched him lightly on his arm. “We can definitely do this again.”

“Promise?”

“Absolutely. Except maybe we don’t wait for one of our favorite marine animals to be dying before getting together again.” I exhaled a breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding. “I can’t even tell you how much I’ve missed you,” I grinned back at him.

“Did you really? Miss me?” He asked and I nodded.

I nodded vigorously, as if trying my hardest to convince him. “I did. It was sad and strange and I didn’t think we’d ever speak again so that made it even sadder. But now I’m so glad. Really.”

“Yeah. I felt the same way, Luce. I was the same. I just thought about you all the time. But I feel glad now too.” He hugged me again and something about his warmth meeting my body made me shiver, but not because I was cold. “Aw, you’re getting chilled out here. You better get home and warm up,” Tim said and released me from the embrace.

I drove toward home, missing Tim suddenly and inexplicably, but also feeling purely happy. Gabe called as I pulled up to my house, the buzz of my cell phone seemingly punctuating the bubble of bliss in which I’d been floating.

“Hi there. I’m just finishing up here,” he sighed. “Are you hungry? Should I bring something to eat?”

“Actually,” I answered after a pause, and with a sigh of my own. “I’m sort of tired and I have a bit of a headache. Do you mind if we take a raincheck?”

As I let myself into my dark apartment, I realized I just wasn’t up for dealing with the cognitive dissonance an evening with Gabe would ignite.


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our complicated protagonist continues to fuck up and explore herself and fuck up and explore herself and . . . . well, you get the picture... xoxo. oooohhh, also some weird rough smut... for reasons?

“It was the weirdest thing,” I told Jenny the next week at my session.

“Weird how?” She took a swig of what I assumed was tea from a chunky, ceramic mug glazed in swirls of blue and green. It reminded me of an Impressionist painting.

“I’d just spent this super emotional day with Tim. We cried over Luke. We talked about us. He asked me about Gabe and we actually talked about that, like we had a real, meaningful conversation about it. We hugged a few times and it felt natural and nice,” I paused to catch my breath and I recalled all of the little details of the Saturday afternoon and evening I’d spent with Tim. Sighing, I shrugged and added, “We had an awesome time together. It was like an amusement park ride. It was all over the place, but in the end it was great and I just wanted to get on it again. I don’t know if I was just so relieved that he’d forgiven me, or if I was just so happy to see him again.”

“So he did forgive you?” Jenny’s mercurial eyes twinkled at me as she smiled in a manner that could best be described as a smirk.

I coughed out a laugh. “Are you trying to say you told me so?”

“Not in so many words,” she chuckled lightly and her eyes made the happy cat face. “But I am wondering if you learned anything?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Sometimes people actually do care about me.” I rolled my eyes and smiled back wryly at her. “But my point is, why didn’t I want to see Gabe after? I always want to see Gabe, and I faked a headache to not have to see him.”

“So, you didn’t have a headache?” She asked archly. I shook my head and bit my lip.

“Ugh! I know what you’re going to say. I lied to him. It was a little lie, but it still was dishonest I guess.”

“Lucy, I’m not concerned as much with you lying to Gabriel as with you lying to yourself, or even just avoiding your own truth, whatever that might be.” Jenny said softly.

“My truth,” I mused.

Truthfully, Gabe was angry with me, or at least incredibly annoyed and agitated. I’d gone to his office during lunch the day before with miso soup and a few assorted sushi rolls from the Bento Box. He’d made me promise to keep my hands to myself and actually started trying to lecture me about the life and times of Mozart. During his speech, I snuggled closer to him on the couch.

“Hey,” he warned.

“What?” I asked coyly and sipped my soup from its plastic container. “I’m just being friendly. My hands are securely around my soup. See?”

“Alright then,” he said with half a smile. “See that they stay there.” He flipped the music ahead to a piece that sounded both familiar and unfamiliar to me. “This is the Turkish March. It’s actually pretty fun to play,” he mused. I watched his fingers mark the music against his thighs.

“It’s just,” I started and paused. Looking up at him from beneath my lashes, I licked, then bit my lower lip. He raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t had Japanese food in a while, and I was thinking about the first time we went to the Bento Box. Do you remember?”

“How could I forget?” His voice was already low and husky. God, it was too easy. I almost broke down and laughed.

“And after? Do you remember after? In your car?” I watched his eyes widen and then flicker, saw his breath hitch. He swallowed and nodded. “We made each other come for the first time?” I set my soup on the table and folded my hands in my lap. But I pressed my body closer into his side and reached my face up toward his neck, breathed on it lightly and flicked his earlobe with the tip of my tongue, as I said, “It was so, very nice. You knew right away how to make me feel good, how to make me _come for you_.”

“Lucy,” he shuddered. “You promised.”

“Ah. Yes. I promised to keep my hands to myself,” I whispered against his neck right under his ear. “I didn’t say anything about my mouth.” _Who was I_? Did I even want this, or did I just want to prove I could accomplish something? The questions flickered through my mind, but were quickly replaced when I glanced down and saw his erection. His cock was captured and taut beneath his pants. It seemed to be half the length of his inner thigh. Whether or not I wanted it suddenly became irrelevant as I saw how much he wanted me. “You’re huge,” I moaned and rubbed my leg against him, still honoring my no-hands promise. I asked him to unzip and take himself out, told him I wanted to suck it.

“Baby, no. Wait until later. I’ll come over tonight and we can do it then.”

“Mmmh, no,” I whimpered. “I want you now. Or you could use my hand like you did that first time and then I could lick you off my fingers.”

“I can’t do it here,” he pleaded but he pressed up on my leg, rutted against me. I climbed on top of him and found an angle to get much needed friction on myself while also stimulating him. The music switched to another track and strings swelled in the air.

“You’ll just end up coming in your pants like this,” I taunted. “You know you will.”

“Oh,” he sighed. “The Jupiter Symphony.” He sounded so miserable I contemplated backing off, but then he buried his face in the opening of my blouse, bit at my cleavage, and bucked up against me. For a moment I actually thought he would get off right there, just like that, and it wouldn’t take me more than a few moments of what I was doing to come as well, but all of a sudden he pushed me off and stood. “Over here,” he growled and dragged me to his desk. He leaned against it and pulled my back to his chest. One of his hands went roughly into my pants and the other went quickly up my blouse. Somehow, his cock had managed to spring up into what must have been a more comfortable position for him against his belly and he rubbed against my ass as he finger fucked me. “You gonna come fast for me, Baby? Come on and _do it good and fast_ for me.” His words burned my ear, his teeth bit my neck. I writhed against his fingers. I turned my face and tried to kiss him, but his eyes were shut and he turned his face away. An electric jolt traveled from my nipple to my cunt as he pinched it and sent me careening into a helplessly strong orgasm. “That’s it,” he said gruffly and pulled his fingers out of me.

“Fuck, fuck,” I panted, but he wasn’t done with me. He turned me around.

“Kneel,” he instructed as he unbuckled his trousers and pulled his cock out. He knitted his fingers into my hair and pulled me onto his fully erect dick. There was no pretense or teasing here. Both his hands in my hair, nails scraping my scalp, he set a pace and moved me almost harshly over him. My mouth stretched to accommodate his ample girth as he shoved himself halfway down my throat. For a moment, I wasn’t sure it was actually happening. I had to remind myself to breathe through my nose so I wouldn’t gag and choke as I took him hard and deep.

If I had wondered before _who I was and what I was doing_ , I now wondered the same thing about Gabe as he used my mouth as nothing more than a wet, hot fuck hole. It hardly lasted more than a couple minutes, during which time I fingered myself to another climax as he punished my throat with his fast, deep thrusts. Finally, he held me down to his root, and coated the back of my throat. His spurts were hot and long and I swallowed as much as he gave me. With a couple soft grunts, he finished and his fingers gentled in my hair. Stroking the hair off my face, he pulled himself from my lips and zipped himself back into his pants. Still on my knees, my pants undone, I leaned against his legs. I felt him quiver. The music switched to a slower, less enthusiastic track.

“That what you wanted?” He grumbled.

I looked up quizzically. “I mean, that was pretty hot,” I said and stood to straighten my own clothing. He shook his head and scowled. “What? What is that look supposed to mean, Gabe?”

“It’s all about manipulation and control for you now, isn’t it?” His question was pointed and sharp. I swallowed and tasted the bitter salty echo of his semen in the back of my mouth.

“You’re not seriously angry?”

“I don’t know what I am anymore, Lucy.” He slunk behind his desk like a beaten dog and sank into his chair. “Somedays I just wish you’d stay the fuck out of my church and the fuck out of my life.”

I opened my mouth to deliver some sort of scathing speech, but all that came out was, “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he said, sounding ancient and a million miles away.

“You want me to stay the fuck out of your life?” My voice was shrill, incredulous.

“Lucy, no. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean,” he trailed off, waved his hand, and tried to regroup his thoughts. He rubbed his face and his nostrils flared when he smelled me, lingering on his fingers. He looked like he was going to cry. “I’m sorry,” was all he managed.

“Nope, it’s totally fine. I’ll just get _the fuck out of your church_ now, Father,” I hissed. I never felt such venom churn in my belly in my entire life. Patting down my hair, I strode to the couch and snatched my pocket book and jacket. I was about to race out of his office, but as an afterthought, I stopped short in front of our lunch table. “You know what, _fuck you_.” With significant force, I swiped my half empty bowl of miso soup off the table onto his Oriental carpet. It spattered on the front of his desk. A cube of tofu bounced once on the floor and came to rest in the red woolen weave of a flower in the carpet’s pattern. Strutting out of his office without looking back, I passed Tracey’s desk. “Father Gideon spilled some soup. He may need help cleaning it up,” I said sweetly.

As I stormed from the church, I imagined Tracey’s nonplussed face as she pushed back her chair and rose to find paper towels. What would she even use to clean seaweed and fermented soy out of an antique carpet?

I made it to my car before I broke down and cried. Peeling out of the parking lot, I considered calling Jenny and booking an emergency appointment. I didn’t know if I could make it a whole 24 hours until the one we had scheduled. But I managed to pull myself together and conduct my labs. I joked around with my students and graded some exams. But even with several sticks of gum crammed in my mouth, I tasted Gabe. It felt like a sick and twisted joke. It made me gag every time I swallowed.

So, a day later, sitting in Jenny’s office after work, the truth- _my truth_ \- was that I was too filled with shame to share what had happened the day before in his office. I focused instead on the day with Tim and my question about why I hadn’t wanted to see Gabe then and there because I wanted to know how I made myself feel that ability to not want him. If I could get to the bottom of that secret, I’d be golden because truthfully, all I really wanted was to go back in time and not have gone to his church the day before, to not have even wanted it.

“Lucy?” Jenny asked. I realized my eyes had glazed over, staring at a huge, framed map of the world on her wall. “Where did you go just now?”

“I don’t know,” I tried to evade her question.

“No, don’t do that. Stay with the feeling or the thought but bring it back into the room with you. Let’s look at it together.”

I licked my lips and took a deep breath. Letting the air out of my lungs slowly, I said, “Gabe says this thing about cognitive dissonance when he’s with me. How his thoughts play against his feelings and how what he knows is right plays against what feels good. Honestly, it annoys the fuck out of me,” I huffed a scornful breath through a bitter smile. “He usually says it after he’s with me and he has to go do something church related. Or he’ll say it when we’re together at his church. I guess I’ve grown to understand the feeling, much as I resent it when he feels it. I think on Saturday, I didn’t want to be bothered with the cognitive dissonance of seeing Gabe after what I’d shared and felt with Tim.” I shrugged. It didn’t cover the miso soup, but it was close enough to approximate.

“Interesting,” Jenny said. She set her mug down on her desk and leaned forward on her knees to gaze intently at me with eyes the color of a lake ringed by autumnal trees. “What would it have been like just to tell Gabriel the truth?”

“You mean tell him that I had too much fun with Tim and didn’t want to ruin it with his dark and broody drama?”

“Ah, maybe not in those words precisely?”

“I don’t know.” I said and Jenny asked me to go back and really think about what I’d been feeling when I told Gabe I had a headache. “I didn’t want to ruin the moment. It was so clean and sweet. So simple. Gabe would have been jealous, but he would have pretended not to be jealous because he has no right to be jealous. It would have made me feel guilty and then the whole afternoon with Tim would have been tainted. I suppose I felt protective of Tim, or of my time with him in some way? And I think I really was tired, or at least preemptively tired by the thought of having to argue and rationalize it by being honest with Gabe.”

“I see,” Jenny nodded and leaned back in her chair.

“Glad someone does,” I said, somewhat astounded any of what I said made the slightest sense. “But you know what? I didn’t feel bad. I didn’t feel bad at all that I lied to Gabe, not like when I lied to Tim. I felt horrible, still feel horrible, about that. But this was just like. . .”

“Self preservation?”

“Maybe something like that, yeah.”

“Any thoughts on whether or not the thing with Gabriel has run its natural course, Lucy?” Jenny tilted her head as she gently offered this question. In my mind’s eye, I saw the tiny cube of tofu bouncing across Gabe’s carpet and my heart rate sped up.

“It hasn’t even been a year yet that I’ve known him,” I whispered as tears stung my eyes. “How does something that has barely even started have the power to get under your skin. It’s like it’s changed my actual DNA.” I looked to Jenny desperately for an answer, but she dug her purple clogs into a ponderously long silence.

“In some ways Gabriel has changed you, and changed you profoundly, Lucy. I don’t think time has anything to do with that.”

“Can you elaborate?” I asked tensely. Her silence had put me on edge.

“For whatever reason, you felt safe enough with him to open doors in yourself that you never opened with anyone, and you shared parts of yourself with him that you never felt you could share with anyone else. From what you’ve told me, he was able to meet and hold those very difficult parts of you in ways you needed, at least for a while. I don’t doubt he cares for you deeply, as you care for him. It’s a situation that has simply grown unmanageable for its limitations, but that doesn’t negate the fact that there were and are some elements of something that set you on a path toward healing, albeit in a circuitous manner.”

“I let him in,” I whispered. As I said it, I know I meant it emotionally, but I immediately was rammed right back into the four poster bed in New Hampshire when Gabe and I fucked for the first time, when we touched each other all over and worshipped every little bit, when I told him I loved him for the first time. It had been perfect. Maybe it had been those had been the only perfect moments I’d ever known in my life. God, I wanted them. I wanted them so badly. I didn’t want the end of the story to be a fucking plastic container of fermented soup splashing across a church office.

“You did. You really let him in.” Jenny threw her hands up with a little laugh. “I’d say it was an odd choice for a first person to truly open yourself to, but I daresay the man has seen you at your worst and has shown you a kind of love in spite of your best efforts to detonate it. You’re a smart woman, Lucy. You chose someone safe to reveal yourself to. Unfortunately in doing so, you sort of formed a trauma bond with this guy and it would seem the two of you have unwittingly been reenacting trauma for each other.”

“Yikes,” I breathed. “That’s a mouthful. Do you mean like we’ve been setting each other up to fix things just so we can? Hurting each other intentionally so we can have the opportunity to heal each other?”

“What do you think?”

“I think I’m more fucked up than I realized,” I sniffed.

“No no no,” Jenny sighed and leaned forward on her knees again. “You are stronger and smarter and more curious and tenacious than you realized. And when you’re ready, you’ll figure out an extrication plan.”

“What if I don’t ever want to be extracted?” I asked. She simply shrugged and pressed her lips together in a small smile.

“No judgment,” she said. “You’ll figure something out.”

I booked two sessions for the following week and drove away from Jenny’s office feeling like my brain was on fire and melting. Every time I thought something made sense, another thought wormed in and whatever I thought I knew turned to dust. Jenny said I could call her in between my appointments if I needed to talk, or if I felt an increase in anxiety as was often the case when working on these deep rooted issues. But I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to explore it or unpack it or live with it. I didn’t want to call my friends or go out or drink or smoke or eat.

I simply didn’t want to be me.

At home I changed into leggings and stretched for a run. With music turned as high as it could go, I set off at a ridiculously fast pace I could barely manage for a mile, let alone my entire run, but it helped clear my mind of everything other than the single task of getting oxygen into my lungs. At a certain point, I had to slow down, catch my breath and adjust my pace. When I finally found a rate at which I could comfortably run, I settled in for a few miles. I wasn’t in the greatest of shape and couldn’t go too far, so I did a loop around my neighborhood and a small park and started back home. By the time I settled into the final couple miles, I’d resolved myself to never seeing Gabe again. After all, no man returns to a woman who violates him at work and vandalizes his space with soup. Those are just facts.

But as I trotted at my cool down pace up to my house, I recognized the shabby SUV, and if my heart weren’t already beating full tilt, it just about went off the charts.

Gabe sat in one of the lounge chairs on my porch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Sweeties, your comments fill up my heart and give me the strength and motivation to continue. We are in the home stretch here... I'm so grateful to all of you not just for reading this and interacting with it, but for choosing to spend time with me and for connecting with me. 
> 
> This last year has been so so so hard for all of us. No exceptions. And this story, which I've wanted to tell like foreverrrrrrrrr, gave me a really unexpected opportunity to share and connect with so many amazing people from all around the globe. I can't even begin to say what you all mean to me. Your insights and humor and love and kindness and encouragement and beauty has just been so so so special for me. I really do love you all for that. FACTS. 
> 
> Thanks again from the bottom of my heart for reading and for spending time with me. xoxo


	57. Chapter 57

Breezing onto the porch, I barely glanced sideways at him as I fiddled with my locked door. He stood and cleared his throat. I didn’t turn around. I pretended he wasn’t even there.

“Lucy,” he said. His voice was velvety soft. His voice was warm and I was going to melt if he so much as uttered another syllable. I couldn’t look at him. I stared straight ahead. My fingers shook and I couldn’t unlock my door. _Fight, flight, freeze_. I froze. “Hey. I don’t want to keep you long, but can we talk for a moment?”

Still staring straight ahead at my door, I said, “I thought you wanted me out of your fucking life.” My mouth was bone dry from breathing hard during my run and from the sudden anxiety Gabe on my porch evoked. It felt pasty and made a gross smacking noise with every word. I cursed myself for not bringing a water bottle.

“I’m sorry I said that. I should never have said that,” his voice shook. I still didn’t turn or look at him, but I got the sense he was glancing around as if nervous he’d be seen on my porch. “Please, can I come in? Just for a moment?”

“Fine,” I huffed. I think part of me agreed because I was desperate for hydration, but another part of me sincerely piqued with curiosity about what he had to say. I managed to open my door and he followed me through to my kitchen where I flipped on lights and got myself a glass of water. I offered him one which he declined. He extended a bunch of flowers, which I hadn’t noticed he’d been holding. They were daises, wrapped in a pale, blue cone of paper and tied with white, silk ribbon. “Are these purloined from the altar guild?” I snapped. I didn’t reach to take them from him, so he set them gently on the counter top. The paper rustled. For some reason the rustling paper made my heart skip a beat like it was the precursor to its breaking entirely.

“Nope. I actually went in to a flower shop and bought those myself,” he said. “Do you want me to put them in some water for you?”

“No, Gabe. I don’t want you to put them in water for me. I want to know what you’re doing here.” I’d caught my breath fully, and was cooling down from my run. Slipping a sweatshirt I’d tied around my waist back over my shoulders, I finally took a good, long look at him. He was dressed as the priest, in black from head to toe, but he’d taken his collar off and unbuttoned the top couple buttons of his shirt. I wondered where he’d put the stiff, white rectangle of clerical collar, if he’d stashed it in his pocket, or in the middle console of his car. With his hands free from holding the bouquet of flowers, he seemed uncertain what to do with them. He opened and closed them a couple times at his hips before unbuttoning his jacket and stuffing them into the pockets of his pants.

“Are you angry?” He asked at last. “You seem angry.”

“I don’t know,” I answered. I became keenly concerned the daisies were wilting because my pride didn’t allow me to put them in a fucking vase of water. I took another sip of water myself and licked my lips. “I thought you were angry. So, I’m surprised to see you. You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

“I’m not angry, Lucy. I couldn’t leave things how they were. I needed to say I was sorry.”

“Okay, you’ve said it twice now,” I said. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled slowly. “I needed to see, to make sure, that you were okay after what happened. I didn’t mean to, that is I would never. . . Lucy, I did not want,” he fumbled for words, his voice becoming more unsteady as he progressed but never really arrived at a point. My impatience and anxiety gave way to concern for him. Finally, in a gust, he said, “It was brutal. It felt brutal and mean the way we took each other, but especially the way I took you.”

“Oh. That?” I found his words surprising. I thought he was going to scold me for throwing the soup. Shrugging, I scoffed and muttered, “I wasn’t exactly complaining, Gabe.”

“I realize your sexuality has the capacity to be more flexible than mine. Maybe it’s my lack of experience, or maybe it _was truly wrong_ for me to seek and find pleasure in such an aggressive manner. I don’t know, but I do know that I don’t want it like that. I never wanted it like that!” He gasped on a broken sob, took off his glasses and buried his face in his hand. For a moment I watched him softly weep, unsure what to do. Slowly, tentatively, I approached him, put a hand on his arm, caressed him in comfort. “Forgive me, forgive me,” he cried. He didn’t touch me back, didn’t seem to dare. I guided him into the living room and pushed his body into the nearest chair, the arm of which I sat on. I pulled his head against my chest and held him as he cried. Silently, I stroked his glossy, dark curls, smoothed the silver streaks at his temples. I coaxed one of his arms around my waist and he reluctantly held me. When he finished his cry, he looked up at me with distraught, boyish eyes.

“You’re really upset,” I said and kissed his forehead.

“Of course I’m upset,” he whispered. “You don’t have a monopoly on the feelings in this relationship. Why wouldn’t I be upset?”

“I guess I thought you were older and stronger,” I shrugged. I slipped onto his lap and he held me properly.

“Strong? No. I lose all sense of strength and control when I’m with you, Lucia. It terrifies me.” He tucked my head under his chin and hugged me tightly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Gabe,” I pushed away and peered into his eyes. He reminded me of a forest after a rainstorm and instantly I was lost in him, drenched in all he was. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“But _I’m not_ okay, Luciana,” he whispered. I held his big, shaggy face in both of my hands and kissed his nose, both his cheeks.

“Well, then, I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for - “ I started but he cut me off.

“No, you’re not understanding. I don’t need that from you. You don’t have to apologize.”

“What then? What do you need?” Honestly, at that point, I would have said or given or done just about anything to take away the utter tragedy of his countenance. And it wasn’t just the sorrow and pain on his face, it was as if his entire body had been colored with a grayish green agony, an emotional cancer I’d caused to metastasize through his entire being.

“I need you to know what I feel for you is love,” he sighed.

“I do,” I assured him. He rubbed my back and cradled me in his arms like a doll. How could I not have felt loved, held like that? I nestled my head against his shoulder.

“What I did yesterday didn’t feel loving. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself, but I do know I cannot be with you like that ever again, Lucy. It felt hurtful, like a part of me even wanted to hurt you because you were hurting me,” he shuddered remembering it.

“Are you still hurting?”

“Yes.”

“I am sorry for that, Gabe. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It seems like as hard as we try, we somehow manage to trip around in our love for each other. I’ve watched so many couples come together, live lives, have families, come to the end of their days. I’ve sat across from them in moments of despair, but as much empathy as I’ve ever felt with them, I never knew loving someone else could be so complex, so painful.” He opened his hand, palm up on my lap and I put my hand palm down on top of it. My fingers looked thin as birthday candles on top of his big, strong hand. I watched our fingers linger and play over one another, light as the spring breeze that blew through a neighbor’s wind chimes outside.

“So, what are you saying? Are you saying you really do want me out of your life?” I was confused.

“No,” he exhaled. “I said that out of hurt. I never want you out of my life. You’re practically all I want in my life, but I can’t have you so no matter how far we go, we always wind up back at square one, don’t we.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I laughed lightly.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Exactly.”

“What do you think it would be like if it were simple? Do you think we’d still love one another, or do you think we’d lose interest because there wasn’t any of the drama?” I wasn’t sure where my question came from, but when I asked it, I heard Jenny’s voice.

“Oh, I don’t need any drama to be interested in you. As much as I try not to torture myself with imagining it, I still dream about a simple life in a simple house where I do simple things for you like change the batteries in the smoke detectors, plant you a field of wildflowers, and water our lawn.” His body rose and fell in deep breaths beneath my body.

“Those are pretty things to imagine,” I whispered. “But it was never meant to be simple for us, was it?”

“I wanted it to be. But no, it was not.”

“Do you think we fight and fuck things up so much because we can’t have it simple so we want to make it as complicated as we possibly can?”

“You mean like cutting of our noses to spite our faces? I dunno about that, Baby. It’s an interesting theory,” Gabe said.

I tilted my face to look up at him as he gazed down at me. My fingers played in the opening of his shirt and danced over the delicate flesh of his neck. He traced my features with the lightest fingertips and we just kind of sat there, like we were looking at one another for the first time, like we had just woken up and opened our eyes. It struck me all of a sudden that fooling around or fucking him in his church was such a power trip for me because it was like flipping a giant middle finger at his God, at the establishment I believed kept him from me. It was a perverted truth I didn’t much care for, so I shut it off. No sooner had I closed the door on it, then I heard Jenny’s voice in my mind again, saying Gabe had opened doors in me I’d never let anyone through before.

“You know, my therapist has this theory we have a trauma bond,” I said softly. “We’re just sort of creating these rifts and tragedies so we can fix them because we’re addicted to the way the healing part feels.”

“Oh, Dear Lord,” Gabe said. “That’s terrible. I haven’t heard that term in ages, since my work at the women’s shelter that I told you about. Not to second guess your therapist, but I don’t know if I believe it, about us.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to,” he said. “Because if I thought a bond formed out of chaotic and abusive conflict was the only thing connecting us, I would not be able to spend another day on the planet. Trauma bonds are not love, Lucy. And I love you. I know I love you.” Tears spilled over the rims of his eyes. “I love you so much. _I know that_. I do know that one thing above all others, so help me God.”

“I know. I love you,” I whispered and regretted bringing up the trauma bond thing. “I do, Gabe, I do.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and we held each other as closely as we could, gently rocking in the chair.

“I should go,” he said after a while.

“Oh, please don’t go,” I said.

“Lucia, I can’t. I don’t want to risk hurting you ever again.” He kissed my lips very lightly. “When you look back, years from now, I don’t ever want you to think you had a trauma bond with me. I only want you to remember that I loved you as well as I could, as kindly, as purely as I possibly was able. I just want,” he had to stop speaking because he was crying. He pressed his forehead on my clavicle and I felt his damp, hot breath on my breasts.

“Then stay with me now. Tonight.” I hugged him urgently. “We don’t have to do anything. Please, please let’s just hold each other and be together.” I felt him nod against my chest and I sighed in relief. I told him I had to take a shower because I was sweaty from running, and I told him he could help himself to anything he wanted to eat or drink from my kitchen.

“I can’t eat now,” he mumbled. “I’m not hungry. I’m so tired, so tired.”

“I know. Me too. And it’s late,” I said. “Go get comfortable and I’ll be there soon, okay?” Again, I felt him nod against me. We stood from the chair and stretched. He looked at me warily and I led him back toward the hallway to my bedroom. “Promise you won’t leave, Gabe? Promise you won’t go and leave me without saying anything while I’m in the shower?” I asked, suddenly stricken with fear he’d disappear if I left him.

“No, I’ll be right here waiting,” he sighed. Head bowed low, he trundled off to my room as I went into the bathroom to shower. My hair needed washing, but I piled it in a high, loose bun so I could be quick. Some small part of me was still scared he would vanish while I was in there. Prior to getting into the steaming spray, I contemplated asking him to come into the bathroom and just sit there while I bathed, but that seemed beyond insane, and I reminded myself to trust him. I washed quickly and dried hastily. Throwing my robe over my damp body, I raced to my room and found Gabe there, reclined on my bed. All the lights were out, but he’d lit a couple candles. He had made us tea and fragrant, herbal mugs sat side by side on the bedside table next to him.

“You stayed,” I exhaled, realizing I was out of breath because I must have been holding it. “You’re here.”

“I am here,” he smiled. He had taken off his shoes and jacket, and he untucked his shirt, but otherwise, he was completely dressed. I put on a night shirt and curled next to him on the bed.

“Don’t you want to get comfortable?” I asked, plucking at the buttons on his shirt.

“I didn’t want to assume,” he said.

“Gabe,” I sat up and shook my head. “Come on. It’s okay. I think I have one of your tee shirts here somewhere. You can put that on if you want.” I gingerly unbuttoned his shirt and kissed the space over his heart. “I love you, I love you,” I whispered and nuzzled the hair on his chest. Declining the tee shirt, he let me undress him down to his boxers, and we got beneath the covers, sipped our tea and relaxed.

“Oh, my love,” he shivered and I remembered the first night we kissed, how he had gotten so emotional outside his car and I thought he was cold because he shook. “How are you so beautiful? It’s like I don’t even know if life is real when I’m with you or without you, and yet I only seem to feel my heart beat when you are in my arms.” He kissed the top of my head.

“Since when have you been a poet?” I snuggled against him, my hand on his tummy feeling it rise and fall with his breath. His nipple was near my lips and I licked it quickly with my tongue. It felt good to me, so I did it again and again. I put my mouth over it and suckled lightly. We both moaned almost at the same time, and my hand wandered down to find he was hard. I whimpered and tried to wrap my fingers around his shaft, but he pushed my hand away. Sucking harder on his nipple, I settled into his embrace. I peeked up at him and murmured, “Just for comfort? Just a little bit?” And he nodded as I set back to licking and sucking while he clearly tried to ignore his erection. He asked if I wanted him to touch me and I peeked up at him and nodded while trailing my tongue around his pebbled nipple.

“I don’t want to come,” his voice was like a hive of bees in my ear. “Just you, Baby. Okay?” He gently pushed his fingers between my legs and stroked slow and soft in my folds. I flicked my tongue over the pert bud of his nipple and he whined in a sort of torment so I stopped. “No, please,” he arched his chest toward my mouth and I eagerly passed my tongue back over him, kneading the other one with my fingers. When he put two fingers into me and curled them up against my g-spot, I accidentally nipped him and we both cried out at the intense sensation. He worked his fingers in me and his thumb over my clit. “Is that good, Baby?”

“Yeah, oh yeah,” I moaned. “So good.”

“Can you feel how much I love you?”

“Yes, Gabe, oh god yes. I love you. Don’t stop. Like that, oh,” I wiggled my hips in slow circles. His fingers were silky and serene. I felt his cock, thick and hard and leaking on my thigh, but he kept whispering he loved me and it was just for me as he brought me up and over the edge and then held me fast against him. “God, Gabe, let me do you now, please oh please,” I begged, but he shushed me and pushed my hand away with an indulgent chuckle and many sweet kisses all over my face. Too sleepy to argue, I relaxed in his arms and let myself drift off.

It must have been three or four in the morning when I woke. Thirsty, I reached for my cold mug of tea and drank all that was left. The candles had been blown out, and I guessed Gabe had gotten up to do that. With a start, I realized Gabe wasn’t in bed with me. I jumped up and raced through my apartment. In the living room, he sat on the couch, hands folded in quiet prayer. He looked up when I entered the room.

“I woke and you weren’t there,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” he shrugged.

“What’s wrong? Why are you out here?” I approached the couch.

He sniffed out a little laugh and said, “Well, it turns out you’re very hard to sleep next to in a chaste manner. No pun intended.”

“Oh, Gabe,” I sighed. “Come back to bed. Let me take care of you.”

“No. I’ll be fine. I just needed a moment and a drink of water.”

I remembered him saying it was all about control and manipulation for me now. I didn’t want to trick him into doing something that would make him feel awful later. “Please come back,” I argued weakly. He rose from the couch and followed me back to the bed. “Don’t you want me anymore? Have I ruined it?” I whispered as we settled on the pillows.

“Lucia, I’ll never not want you,” he said. “Even now, just lying near you, I’m half mad wanting you, but I’m scared.” He took my hand and brought it to his hard length. I pushed his boxers down over his hips.

“Just let me. You don’t have to punish yourself.” I whispered and slowly climbed on top of him. He nodded breathlessly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I said. I positioned his tip at my entrance and looked at him, waited until he nodded consent. Contently, I slid onto his cock and worked my way down to the root, then I just laid on top of him. “Still okay?” I asked.

“Mmmmh, yes,” he groaned. I started to pump my hips over him, but he stopped me. “No, just stay still, won’t you? Just keep it warm, let it fill you?”

“Yeah, you tell me when you want me to move,” I said and we wrapped our arms around each other. For a long time, I stayed just like that, half asleep, half climaxing, and not moving at all as he stayed hard and still inside of me. After what seemed like an hour, I squeezed my inner walls around him and felt his cock twitch in response. Gabe grunted softly and gave the tiniest thrust. “Hey, how are you?” I asked.

“Good. You’re so good,” he whispered and moved his hands over my lower back and ass. “So, so good, Baby. You wanna move a little?”

“Mmmhmm,” I whimpered and rocked my hips. The sudden sensation almost made me scream, as I realized what all the pressure on my clit had been building up to. I worked my hips in a slow series of figure eights over him and with barely any motion or friction at all, I rocketed into an intense orgasm.

“You’re so beautiful when you come for me,” Gabe said, his voice half dazed.

“Come now, oh please please come for me,” I begged, lying limp and exhausted on top of him. “I want it so much. I need you to come, Gabe.”

“Shh, stay still now,” he said softly and I complied, but my pussy still spasmed around his cock. “It’s like angel wings fluttering,” he practically choked and in that stillness he gave one gentle pulse up with his hips and released inside of me. He held my ass down against him so he was deep in me, but it was all soft and tender and he gave me breathy kisses and held me a long time after. I’d never felt anything like it. Figuring after lying on him for so long I’d be crushing him, I started to move away, but he held me still. “Just a few more moments. I just want to live here for a few more moments,” he whispered and I think he was already falling asleep.

The next morning, we woke and seemed shy with each other. There was a strange uncertainty between us, like we were being excruciatingly cautious with one another. Over coffee I asked if he felt alright about what we’d done the night before and he told me it felt more beautiful than anything he’d ever known. That made me smile, but there still seemed to be a lot of unanswered questions lingering in the air all around us.

“When I found you early this morning, you were praying?” I asked him. He nodded. “Why? What were you praying about?”

He looked deep in my eyes and smiled a little, but it wasn’t really a happy smile. “I was praying for peace between us, for understanding. And I was praying for you.”

“For me?” I sounded more incredulous and scornful than I had intended, but Gabe didn’t seem to notice or be upset by my tone.

“I pray for you all the time, Lucy.” He picked up my hand and kissed the palm then pressed it against his heart.

“Why? I mean, not to be rude, but you know I don’t believe in that stuff.”

He pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead. “I know you don’t. But I do and it gives me a little bit of comfort, allows me to feel a tiny bit of grace.”

“You’ve totally lost me, Gabe,” I said.

“I like knowing that wherever you are and wherever I am, I can hold you in my prayers, even when I cannot hold you in my arms,” he said. My head was pressed against his chest, so I heard his voice come all rough and gravelly as it reverberated through the cage of his bones. My entire body vibrated with his sentiment long after he’d gone completely silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... what are your thoughts on trauma bonds and whether or not these two actually have a love? I don't believe there is a right or wrong answer here, since everyone has a different point of view and perception on the relationship and its merits or toxicity. But I'm curious at this point, what people are thinking... I also think there is the sort of pop psychology definition of trauma bonding and the more classical clinical definition, so depending on what you believe a trauma bond IS, that could also color your view... I'm rambling, sorry. 
> 
> Also, sorry not sorry for once again posting more smut. It is a sickness. But in all honesty, I really do believe that these two would get into bed with every intention of just cuddling, and would still go completely crazy on one another.


	58. Chapter 58

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read my note at the end of this chapter. xoxox.

At my first appointment with Jenny the following week, I was quiet and sullen. It was hard for me to find more than a word or two to answer her questions and I didn’t initiate any of my own conversation. I sat on the couch, picking at my cuticles, cursing myself for not canceling the appointment.

She observed the difference in my demeanor and waited for me to say something.

“I think I’m done with counseling,” I declared.

“Ah. What brought about this decision?” she asked.

Staring at the map on her wall, I remembered Gabe saying _Oh dear Lord,_ like someone had just died in front of him when I told him about the trauma bond theory. What I’d thought was an interesting hypothesis about our relationship had turned out to be something much darker and more sinister. After thinking on it for several days, I didn’t like the notion that Jenny thought my relationship with “Gabriel” was based in chaotic trauma and abusive gestures. And I didn’t like how she had suggested it in a manner that made me feel I was having a breakthrough when she was really insinuating the truest love I’d ever known was something twisted and freakish. I didn’t like it at all.

But I didn’t say any of that. Instead, I stared at the nappy, beige carpet and said, “I just don’t think it’s working out. I don’t think we see eye to eye. That’s all.”

I wasn’t looking at Jenny, but I felt her shift in her chair. I could imagine her head cant to the left and her eyes crinkle in concern along with her brow. “It seems something has shifted between us since our last session, Lucy,” she said softly. At that I did look at her, and I watched her place her marvelous hands on her lap. “Can you help me understand what you’re feeling?”

“No. I don’t think so,” I replied cooly, still staring at her hands. Her fingers curved over her knees and I wondered if I’d ever seen such perfect nail beds. As if she knew her hands had some weird power over me, she made them dance by knitting them together in a prayerful position near her stomach.

“I’ve truly enjoyed getting to know you. And I believe you’ve been making some beautiful progress. I’d be sad to see you leave therapy, but of course I respect whatever decision you need to make.” Her voice was genuine and kind and I liked it a lot. It struck me I’d miss her voice and her eyes and her hands and the weird photo of the Chinese kids on her bookshelf if I up and quit. I suddenly felt angry, conflicted. I started breathing harder and blinking back tears. “You’re having a feeling, Lucy. Come back to the here and now and share it with me if you feel comfortable?” Jenny’s voice was just above a whisper and I could practically feel her shoulders shrug in the raspberry colored blouse she wore.

“It’s just,” I sputtered. “I wish you’d never said that thing about the trauma bond.”

“Oh. Okay. Why’s that?”

I bit my lip and debated if I should bolt from the office, or if I should tell her. In the end, I came clean. “Because Gabe and I talked about it and our relationship isn’t abusive! It’s not normal, I guess, but we love each other. We do!” My words blazed across the office at her but she barely moved a muscle in reaction, other than to nod in a manner that encouraged me to continue. “He worked with abused women in a shelter, years ago. And he knows I was abused. He’d never hurt me. Rick abused me! I know what abuse is and what I have with Gabe is not abuse. Gabe is so smart and gentle and kind and he’s scared sometimes to even touch me because he doesn’t want to risk hurting me! How could you think he’s abusing me?”

Jenny pressed her lips together and tipped her head in a way that made her look sympathetic. “Thank you for telling me that, Lucy. For sharing that. It’s so important for me to know and I am really glad you felt safe to tell me. If you heard me suggest Gabriel was hurting or abusing you, I apologize. That was not my intent.”

“No? Then what the fuck, Jenny?”

“Different people have different understandings of trauma bonds. I see you and Gabriel as two people who have found each other and who fit together at your broken places. That’s not for me to understand or judge, but you’ve also shared your pain with me and the impossibility of it. If my reflection wasn’t accurate, then it is alright for you to tell me, which you did. I’m not the expert on you or on your relationship, Lucy. You are. I’m just here to offer feedback. Maybe it resonates, or maybe it doesn’t.” She stopped speaking and was quiet for quite a while. When she spoke again, she said, “It’s also okay for you to be angry with me. People can be upset with one another and still have a caring relationship.”

She told me she’d hold my spot for later in the week. I could return, or not, it was up to me, and she would respect whatever I decided. “But I will be here, either way,” she said and when I looked up, she was smiling up to her eyes. It was hard to stay mad at her, and even though I didn’t let her know in so many words, I already knew I would keep my second appointment.

“Whatever,” I huffed.

“Do you want to end our session early today?”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“Of course not. I just want you to know you’re in control here and you can make whatever decision is best for you today.” She had somehow melted me, but like a stubborn teenager, I wasn’t quite ready to let her know it. We spent the rest of the session doing some breathing exercises for relaxation, since I didn’t really want to talk, but I didn’t really want to end session early either. I had to hand it to the woman, she was unflappable.

“Do you have kids?” I asked as I prepared to leave her office.

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh, gosh, am I not supposed to ask you personal questions. I’m sorry. I was just curious,” I floundered awkwardly, suddenly anxious about an unseen boundary I might have tripped over.

“It’s fine, Lucy. You can always ask and if I’m not comfortable answering I’ll let you know. Typically, therapists steer away from talking about their private lives so we can focus on you, unless there’s a reason a personal detail would be helpful within the therapeutic relationship.” She raised an eyebrow.

“I’m just wondering. That’s all,” I shrugged. “You seem like you’d be a good one, like your kids would be lucky to have you.” She seemed like she was waiting for me to say more, so I elaborated. “As you know, my human incubator and sperm donor weren’t around to raise me. I had my gran, and June’s mum was pretty great. Raffe and Frankie like to joke they’ve adopted me, and if I ever do get married, Raffe probably will walk me down the aisle if only because he’d throw a huge gay tantrum if he didn’t,” I rolled my eyes and laughed lightly, “but I don’t know much about proper parents. Part of me feels like I’m always looking into the windows of other people’s houses, observing what ‘real life’ is really like. I think, and please don’t analyze this or think it’s super creepy, but I think that’s one of the reasons I love Gabe so much. His love feels like the kind of love a person is supposed to have to hold them up in the world.”

“I don’t think that’s creepy. That’s a special feeling,” Jenny observed. “It makes sense you’d be warmed and sustained by it, that you’d return to it.”

“It makes the other stuff worth it, you know? To feel that kind of love.”

“Lucy, neither you or Gabriel are just one thing. Neither of you are static or simple individuals. You are both dynamic and complex and you seem to appreciate that about one another. It makes sense your relationship would have all of those layers as well, that it wouldn’t be just one thing either, and that it would feel incredibly compelling and powerful for you.”

“I guess that’s better than trauma bonding,” I muttered and she let out a twinkly little laugh. “Anyway, you seem like you’re pretty chill and like you’d be a good parent. Any kid would be lucky to have you for a mom.” I said to close the loop and put an end to the session. Jenny and I both stood.

“To answer your question, I never had children. Not of my own anyway. I was a foster parent for many kids over the course of many years, and it taught me a lot about going with the flow.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

Outside, it was a balmy, early May evening. It was a time of year I usually found agitating, unsettling. New green growth springing up all over, a sudden influx of birds, and bugs, and restless energy that zipped through humanity all made me uneasy. I liked the cozy, calm darkness of winter, and the heavy, heated glare of summer. The bright transition of fall foliage was even preferable to whatever weird, plucky vibe spring manifested. Thankfully, in my part of the world, spring usually only lasted a few weeks. Maybe that was why I didn’t like it; because it was a tease of something that was supposed to be sweet and mild but never really lasted.

I walked to my car, cursing spring and feeling regretful for being such a punk to Jenny during session. I wondered what it was in me that made it practically impossible for me to just be nice to nice people. _And what kind of misanthrope doesn’t enjoy spring?_ Truly, I was much more fucked up than anyone even realized and I definitely would keep my second appointment this week. An ironic smile bent my lips as I slid into the driver’s seat.

I decided to order pizza on the way home. Pulling out my phone, I saw I missed a call from the Women’s Health Cooperative. The message, left by my OBGYN’s medical assistant, alerted me to the fact I’d missed my appointment to have my birth control implant swapped. “Shit!” I hissed and glanced at the time. It was way too late to call them, so I made a mental note to do it first thing in the morning.

The pizza place was busier than usual and I had time to kill before picking up my dinner. I drove past a beach where a bunch of surfers were out, enjoying the waves during the lingering glow of a violet dusk. For a few moments, I watched them bob on top of their boards, as they waited for waves powerful enough to carry them toward shore. Wondering if Tim was out there, I looked around for his car, but didn’t see it. I sighed with relief. Although I knew full well he had no fear of the water and always practiced responsible surf safety, I didn’t like the idea of him out there after dark. Logically and academically, I knew these surfers felt safe in our waters at this time of the evening because any menacing species of shark was completely rare, especially close to the shoreline and at this season. These surfers also frequented beaches where currents were predictable and rip tides were uncommon.

It did make me wonder what Tim was up to, and I thought maybe I’d invite him over to help me eat my pizza. June was obsessively working on clay monster puppets for a class she was taking, and it was one of the nights Gabe and I were spending apart. Watching the surfers, most of whom were paddling in to shore, peeling themselves out of wetsuits, and sharing beers by their vehicles, I debated texting Tim. I was holding my phone, waffling about whether or not it would be cool to contact him, or if I needed some sort of pretense, when it buzzed.

“Oh my god!” I answered.

“Uhh, not God. It’s just me, Tim.”

“I know, but you won’t believe it. I was literally just holding my phone thinking about texting you.”

“That’s awesome! We must be on the same wavelength or something. What’s up?” I could tell by his voice he was smiling. I told him I was on my way home with pizza and asked if he wanted to join me for some. He agreed to come over and bring beer.

When he entered my apartment, he looked around nervously as he carried a paper bag into the kitchen.

“Everything alright?” I asked.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said and ducked his head with a shy smile. “I was just making sure that I wasn’t going to be ambushed by any lurking and jealous suitors.”

“Oh boy,” I said and must have turned forty shades of red. I hadn’t even thought about all the awkward memories my place might generate for Tim. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t think. Are you okay?”

“Absolutely,” he grinned and took several six packs out of the bag.

“Damn! Are you trying to get me plastered?” I joked as I set out plates for our pizza and a salad I’d thrown together.

“Absolutely not,” he said. “I’ve seen you plastered, remember? Sort of would like to avoid that along with the lurking suitors if possible. I just wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, so I brought a porter, a lager, and an IPA.”

I rolled my eyes dramatically and deliberately bumped my hips into him as I grabbed a bottle. “IPA, duh. Have you forgotten everything about me already?”

“Hardly,” he chuckled. “For example, I do remember where you keep the glasses and the bottle opener.” He snatched the magnetic bottle opener off the side of my fridge, went to the proper cupboard, and brought back two glasses for our beers. We served ourselves food and sat at the kitchen table. During our meal and chat, I barely contained my smile. “What are you so smiley about?” He asked.

“I’m just glad you’re here,” I said. “This is nice. I even sort of like it that we can laugh about the stuff that was terrible at the time, but now it’s behind us. You know?”

“I do know,” he nodded. “Speaking of laughing, Luce, did you hear the one about the guy who got a tattoo of an octopus?”

“No,” I laughed, already knowing the punchline would be horrendous.

“He got inked up!” Tim said and beat his hands like a drum on the table.

“Please don’t quit your day job,” I giggled and got us both another IPA. After we finished our second beer, Tim gave me a warm but casual hug and left. I went to bed that night congratulating myself for managing a successful, friendly evening with him, and thinking maybe I wasn’t quite as fucked up after all.

Still, I’d keep my appointment to go back and see Jenny at the end of the week. Just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life might get in the way for a bit between now and the next chapter, but please know that all of your amazing comments really really really give me the stamina and encouragement and strength to keep writing, even if I can only muster a couple sentences a day in between work and home things. 
> 
> You guys mean so much to me. Wow, I can't believe how far we've come. And honestly, I never ever would have made it this far if it weren't for you all. I don't know if I'd have come back to this story to finish it if I didn't know that you all weren't here waiting and wondering and holding it up from all the distant places. I love you so much. I don't say that lightly. In reality, I'm a lot like Lucy. I'm an atheist and I'm not really very optimistic. So, when I say things, I mean them strong and true and I don't say them just to sound pretty or cute. I hope you all know that. When I respond to your comments, I hope you know that my words are so sincere and I hope that you feel that I'm connecting with you, even through all the time and space. 
> 
> I've said before that this story has given me a sense of connection during the pandemic. It has allowed me to escape into a time and place where people can go out and drink and play and visit and fuck without worrying about killing each other or carrying home a virus that kills their loved ones. In a lot of ways, I've carried on, lived, worked, parented, cooked, cleaned, and kept moving forward during this time. . . in many other ways, I'm not doing so well and I'm scared and frustrated and tired. I'm so very tired. Maybe I am more like Gabe than Lucy. I am his age, after all, or almost his age anyway... or maybe I'm a weird blend of the two of them. Idk. Also, I'm angry. Fuck, I'm so super angry like all the time about everything. 
> 
> Either way, whoever I am , I'm here with you and I'm me. I'm sharing this just so you know I'm real and when you comment, I feel you and it means something super significant to me. This story is fiction, but it has been a real life line for me. And I think of you all so very fondly. I feel like I've come to know your voices, your senses of humor, your opinions within the context of your comments and that is lovely to me. For any and all who have felt safe enough to share personal stories, who have opened your hearts to me here, please know I cherish and hold that as well. 
> 
> You have my heart. 
> 
> You all have my heart.


	59. Chapter 59

The next morning, I called my doctor’s office as soon as it opened. The medical assistant listened to my profuse apologies for missing my appointment, then informed me my doctor was out of the country until the end of June. She offered me an appointment in July, and suggested I meet with one of the other doctors in the practice if I wanted to get in sooner.

“July? Are you serious?” I groaned. “I really only want Dr. Perri to do it for me, but I don’t know if I should wait another two months.”

“Hang on, let me check your chart,” the assistant said and put me on hold. I chewed the inside of my cheek, cursing myself for being so scatterbrained until she picked up the line and said, “Judging by the dates you had your current device inserted, you’ll be fine to wait until July. We like to have a pretty wide window for getting these things changed and you are still well within that window. Your current one is good up until September.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yep,” she chirped. “But if you’re worried, you can always come in and have one of the other docs do it for you, or you can use a back up method until your new one is put in.”

I scheduled my appointment for the first week in July, hung up, and exhaled a huge sigh of relief.

As it turned out, I barely had to worry about back up birth control or birth control at all. Once again, things shifted with Gabe. Although he still wanted to spend time with me, he had lost almost all of his desire for intercourse, or so it seemed.

Despite this strange and unexpected detour in our physical relationship, things weren’t all bad. May was a gorgeous month and we indulged in a couple lovely kayak outings and picnics when our schedules allowed us to break away. We enjoyed one another’s company with an almost newfound innocence and bliss. In a way, I felt we were gifted a fresh start. It was a weird concept. While I knew it wasn’t going anywhere permanent, I cherished my time with him and felt him completely present with me as well. Having learned just how delicate we both were, we approached one another with concerned and devoted tenderness.

On one particularly warm day, we managed to drive up the coast to a spot I loved on a small island. Grassy fields gave way to rough, ancient cliffs that overlooked the ocean. With barely a cloud in the sky, our eyes stretched as far as they could, over the horizon. Normally waves smashed forcefully against the rocks, but on this day the sea was unusually calm, almost glassy.

“It’s beautiful,” Gabe said as he took it all in. He’d never been there with me before. Holding hands, we hiked around the point of land where a lighthouse had been placed. I shared with Gabe that when I was getting my degree in marine sciences, I used to visit this spot often to explore the pools at the base of the cliffs at low tide. “You weren’t scared?” Gabe asked.

“No. I'm scared of being submerged in water, not of sticking my hand in it. Come on, I’ll show you,” I said and found the trail that led to my favorite path down. It was an easy walk for both of us and we soon found ourselves on a rocky shore that allowed us to climb up into a shallow tidal basin. Water sloshed gently in and out, but it was mostly empty, or so it seemed at first glance. Crouching down, I pointed to a hermit crab scampering for shelter under a larger overhang of rock. And stuck to that rock were three starfish, camouflaged a brownish color. I reached in and scooped up an urchin which I held just under the water’s surface. When I looked back up at Gabe to show him, he smiled.

“You’re like a kid at Christmas,” he said. “This is like a giant toy box for you, isn’t it?”

“Sort of,” I said and placed the urchin back where it had been. “The simplicity of these organisms is elegant, but somehow they’ve managed to survive millions of years on this awful, violent planet, in this wild environment. Take the starfish,” I ran my finger over one of its prickly arms, “you know these guys have been around for over 400 million years? I dunno, that’s just incredible to me.” I looked back at him to see if I my nerd talk bored him, but he still smiled.

“You’re incredible to me,” he said softly. “This is why I love you so much.”

“Because I like playing with slimy sea life?” I laughed. He took my hand which was cool and wet and he kissed it then licked the salty water from his lips.

“You’ve let me see the world through a whole different set of eyes. It’s like I was asleep for decades and you woke me up and the world I woke up to was a completely different place.” He shook his head and breathed out an incredulous laugh. "Maybe even another planet!"

“I’m not sure I’d like to see the world through my eyes, if I had the choice,” I said skeptically, wondering if I had ever seen the world through his eyes. “The world I see is so often a nightmarish hell on earth.”

“There’s a sacred beauty in that too, Lucia,” Gabe said and his eyes flashed in the sun like amber shards of sea glass. We settled as comfortably as we could on the rocks. “Loving someone is loving all of them, not just the pleasant bits. I always _knew_ that, but I l _earned_ it with you.”

“ _You’re_ incredible to _me_ ,” I sighed and leaned against him. I tipped my face up and he looked down at me. I hoped he’d kiss me, but he turned his face back out to the undulating ocean.

After our talk and reconciliation at my apartment when he’d been so devastated by our aggressive transaction in his office, I’d hoped things with us would get back on track, whatever that meant. But on the rare occasions when we were intimate, it seemed careful, controlled, and within the parameters of his comfort zone. I was reminded of the beginning of our relationship, back when he didn’t want to have intercourse, when he orchestrated hand jobs or curiously explored what it felt like to rub off on different parts of my body.

When he did touch me, he was diligently generous and almost excruciatingly gentle. Our love making assumed a dreamy quality. At times I felt suspended on a cloud while he touched and kissed me, like a fairy tale princess who he was terrified of breaking. Sometimes, my orgasms almost made me feel I came untouched, he was so light and delicate with me. While I could never complain that he left me unsatisfied, I missed the primal heat and need he’d had for me at one time and I longed to feel him inside me.

Since the night at my apartment when he’d cried and we were together in that almost haunting stillness that set us both on fire, he’d refused to fuck me. And since that last time in his office, he wouldn’t let me suck him. No matter how many times he made me come, with his tongue, or fingers, or against his thigh, or even rubbing the shaft of his cock on my clit, I missed the fullness of him. Anytime I tried to tell him this, he’d shush me and do something to sate my need, but never quite fully. Most of the time, he wouldn’t even let me finish him. He would just pleasure me and that would be it. When I’d whine I wanted him, he’d kiss my cheek and say, “It’s enough. Let it be enough now.”

And I would have to let it be because I was scared of doing anything to manipulate him into a situation that made him feel hurt or compromised.

“Sometimes he doesn’t even want to kiss me anymore,” I told June one night over margaritas. We’d just done a couple tequila shots which emboldened me to talk about the situation with Gabe. “It’s like he’s trying to wean himself off of sex or something.”

“Has he given it up for Lent?” June asked as she shoved a chip dripping with salsa verde into her mouth.

“Lent was over like a month and a half ago, Pal,” I laughed.

“You know, maybe,” she started seriously and leaned across the table toward me. “Maybe he is holding out for _ya know_ ,” she winked at me and clicked her tongue.

“Um, no, I don’t know.”

“Yeah ya do. Maybe he is holding out for the back door to the candy store.” June winked again.

“June, _what_?”

“Anal,” she whispered loudly enough for an older couple to glance over at our table.

“Oh my god, you’re wasted. How much did you smoke before we left your house?”

“I am not wasted. It is a completely reasonable hypothesis,” June insisted and munched another chip. We did another shot and chased it with our mango margaritas.

“I promise you, Gabe is not withholding sex from me for. . . _that_ ,” I hissed at her through my laughter.

“Well, then maybe you should try talking to him about it?” June shrugged. “Or maybe you should allow me to spend a few hours with him as a sexual surrogate? See if I can get him lubricated for you?” We both convulsed in a drunken fit of laughter.

“I’m not sure how Claudia would feel about you playing sexual surrogate for me with my priest,” I sighed, feeling very buzzed and flushed. “My god, has a weirder sentence ever even been uttered.”

“Udder,” said June. “Mmm, can we get ice cream after this?”

“No. Absolutely not. I will puke if I eat ice cream after this. Anyway, do you think I should talk to him? Or do you think that would make it worse?” I asked her. She looked at me, her eyes glazed and unfocused. She didn’t answer, she just reached over and booped my nose. “You’re lucky you’re an adorable drunk,” I said.

After dinner, we wandered through the village smoking cigarettes and drinking strong coffee to sober up a bit. I was less tipsy than June, so I drove her home and then drove to my place, but didn’t get out of the car. I sat, parked in front of my house for a few minutes, then jammed a stick of gum in my mouth and drove to Gabe’s.

We didn’t spend nearly as much time at Gabe’s house as we did at mine, or even at his office for that matter. But it wasn’t completely off limits any more, so I didn’t see why it should be taboo for me to pop over. He answered the door in gray pajama pants and a green tee shirt that looked super old, worn thin and soft.

“What’s wrong,” he said as he let me into his living room. “Why are you here?”

“Nothing,” I purred and snuggled up to him, wanting to feel the texture of that tee shirt on my cheek and fingers. “Does something have to be wrong for a girl to want a late night booty call with her big, sexy man?”

“Booty call,” he chuckled, but his body stiffened in my embrace and he still appeared dubious. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tried to pull his face down to kiss him. “Lucy,” he sighed. He sounded tired, maybe annoyed.

“Kiss me. Why won’t you kiss me anymore?”

He gave me a quick peck on the lips and said, “You’ve been smoking. And drinking.”

“I had gum,” I pouted. “Please, Gabe. I want you. I want you so much.” Again, I tried to kiss him and he turned his face from me. “Why don’t you want me anymore?” I asked.

“Are you drunk? Did you drive here drunk?”

“No, I’m not,” I broke away from the embrace and took off the lightweight sweater I had on. Underneath, I wore a lavender, lacy bra that I knew he liked, or at least he used to. He used to like sucking my breasts through the lace, making my nipples hard, soaking the fabric with his saliva. I grabbed his hand and brought it to my chest, watched as his breath hitched. He rubbed his thumb in hypnotic circles over my nipple which had already pebbled in anticipation of his touch.

“It’s late,” he grumbled. “I was on my way to bed.”

“Good. Take me to bed,” I whispered and waited for his other hand to stroke my naked waist, which it did but almost begrudgingly. I cupped my hand over his crotch and felt his growing hardness. “Don’t you want me?”

He laughed bitterly, “You know I do.” I watched him wrestle internally with himself before leading me up the stairs to his bedroom. The light was on in his office next door and a guitar was on the desktop. I assumed he’d been playing music before I’d gotten there. I loved the thought of him cradling a guitar against him, but I missed the days when he’d stay at my place and play, when he left his stuff around, when there were signs of him strewn in my life. It crossed my mind to tell him this, but then he turned the light out in that room, and I didn’t want to ruin the next moment, didn’t want to risk that he’d change his mind about being with me. Once in his room, he unbuttoned my pants and pushed them down. He stuck his hand into my panties. “What made you come here like this? You never come here like this.”

“Never say never,” I whispered and hugged around his waist, relishing the softness of his shirt on my bare skin. “I just want you so bad,” I mouthed on his neck and nipped his ear. I nibbled and licked the parts of him I knew drove him wild. He stripped off my panties and pushed me gently onto the bed. Kneeling before me, he spread open my legs. Instantly, his tongue was hot and greedy in my slit, wasting no time at all finding my needy bud and spearing into my waiting hole. I carded my fingers through his hair as gently as I could, but soon enough, the fire he built in me had me clutch and writhe against his lips. When I looked down, I saw he’d brought himself out over his pajama pants and stroked himself in rhythm with his attentions on me. I liked it. I liked watching him handle himself. He was so thick and long in his huge hand and I liked seeing how he made little jerking motions when he got to his tip, gave it a little extra sensation. I came hard, watching him like that. As I came, I begged breathlessly, “In me, in me now, please!”

“Lucia,” he said warningly, but I pulled him on top of me. He still had himself in his hand.

“A little. Give me just a little, please, Gabe!” I wrapped my legs around him and he put his tip at my entrance. He seemed hesitant. He didn’t put much more in me than his tip, but I saw his eyes roll back as he felt me, still coming against him. With just his head in me, he kept stroking and jerking himself off. He closed his eyes and bit his lip and seemed to be concentrating on the effort it took not to thrust completely into me. He placed his other hand firmly on my hip so I couldn’t push up to take him any deeper. It was a terrible tease. I ached to come again, but couldn’t find the stimulation from the way he had me. In my frustration, I took solace knowing it would be over soon enough. Familiar with his body language, I sensed he was close and continued watching him stroke himself off. When at last his moment arrived, he pulled out, sandwiched himself against my stomach, and groaned loudly for a long time as he spurted hotly between our bodies.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he muttered, reached for tissues, and wiped his semen off my belly. He missed a good amount where it dripped down my hip, but I didn’t say anything. He seemed very concerned with getting both of us clean. In stunned silence, I let him complete this task. When he was done, he flopped on the bed beside me and sighed heavily. “I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry.” I didn’t know if he meant he didn’t mean to jerk himself off with just his tip inside me, or if he didn’t mean to come on my body, or if he didn’t mean to come at all. I didn’t ask for clarification. As if he felt my brow furrow in the dark, he gently stroked my face and said he was sorry again.

“That was. . . different,” I murmured, and curled against him, thankful when his arms came around me and brought me close to his body. What I’d really wanted to say was, _What the fuck was that?_ But something about him seemed fragile and strange and I didn’t want to hurt him even a little bit. “But please don’t be sorry. I love you, Gabe. You know it, right?”

“Yeah, I know. I love you too,” he said and kissed my forehead. I started to get up and he asked where I was going. I told him I’d go home. “Nah, stay here with me. Let me hold you.”

“But I’m smoky and you don’t want to kiss me,” I whispered, suddenly close to tears.

“There’s a new toothbrush in the linen closet, if you want,” he suggested. I got up and found the toothbrush. Unwrapping it from its package, I brought it to the sink and slathered more toothpaste than was necessary over the bristles. I brushed my teeth and washed my face with some of the bland soap Gabe had. Then I ran the water a while longer while I finished crying. Maybe it was the alcohol that made me maudlin, or maybe something felt different and dark. Water still sloshing in the sink, I blew my nose and wiped my eyes, shut off the tap and returned to bed.

“Minty fresh,” I said hopefully and turned my face to him on the pillows. He kissed me chastely and wrapped his arms around me. In a weird way, it reminded me of June booping my nose when I’d asked her about whether or not I should talk to Gabe. His casual kiss and silent embrace was a non-answer for all the questions I didn’t feel I could ask.

Cradling my back to his chest, he held me. As he fell asleep, he found one of my breasts with his hand and cupped it lightly. Despite everything, I felt good and happy right there in his arms and I let that be enough for that moment, for that night. I didn’t say anything else. I kissed his arms and he squeezed me tenderly against him. I didn’t ask any of the questions that lingered in the air like dark and leathery creatures of the night.

All the answers were right there.

I just did not want to hear or know them. Not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey my Loves! How is everyone doing??? Gabe is so weird, right? But IDK why I also found that sort of hot... maybe I also need therapy? LOL... anyhoo, Thank you so much for your lovely comments and your kind and encouraging words. You are all so wonderful and you make my heart so full. 
> 
> I'm guessing there are about five chapters left in this thing. Maybe more, maybe less, but I'm letting you know so that you can prepare, but also mainly so I can prepare myself. 
> 
> I think I'm going to be destroyed when I actually finish writing this beast. It's really taken over my life and my heart in a lot of ways and it's given me this beautiful community of people who I've come to really know and love so much-- you guys, the readers. I'm not sure what I'll do next. . . this is the first story I've really committed to, and the first thing I've ever written that has been so long and that I ever actually stand a chance of completing. It's also the first story that is so long that is all my own and not fan fiction. So, in a way I'm pretty proud of that, but I know that none of this would have stood a chance, and I probably would have thrown in the towel around chapter 11 if it weren't for all of you. 
> 
> xoxo. Scar.


	60. Chapter 60

When I woke, it was very early, but Gabe had already risen from bed. I dressed and went downstairs. I found him on his back porch, sitting in the sun. As I was quiet, he didn’t hear or see me approach, so I had an opportunity to observe him for a moment. Dressed in his clerical uniform, collar included, he opened his Bible on the table before him, but he closed his eyes. He made the sign of the cross over his body and his lips moved in what I could only assume was a prayer, too soft for me to hear. Looking closer, I saw he held a crucifix. The beads looped loosely around his hand, but he held the cross between his fingers in what looked like a tight grip. For the slightest second, it seemed he held a weapon and not a holy item, but then I blinked and it was a crucifix again, the beads of which he fondled idly.

Not wanting to disrupt his meditation, I slipped to the kitchen to see about making coffee. He must have heard me rustling around, looking for coffee filters, and came to help me. “Morning,” he said and kissed my temple.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I felt meek. “I didn’t know where you kept the coffee stuff.” Sudden embarrassment gripped me in surprising waves as I recalled the night before. I whirled through the different benefits and costs of asking him if we could talk about it, the risks and rewards of trying to discuss how it made me feel, but then I realized I wasn’t even sure how it made me feel. In the light of day, I felt awkward and confused, maybe a little anxious, certainly curious. The raucous mix of feelings muddled into deep sadness.

“It’s okay. I was finished, mostly,” he said and took over making the coffee. I backed away and leaned against the counter. “You sleep okay?”

“I did, yeah,” I said.

"How are you feeling? Seems like you had something of a big night before you arrived her last night," he raised his eyebrows at me briefly and went back to filling the coffee maker.

"I feel fine. And it wasn't a big night. Just dinner and drinks with June." Outside, sun shone radiantly on the water. Birds sang and fluttered on the fresh sea breeze. Inside, I felt like I sank in an emotional mud hole.

“I already showered, but you’re welcome to have one if you want,” he offered. The coffee pot sputtered to life. He was trying to be nice. I wondered if he was trying to be nice because he knew how horrible I suddenly felt. Maybe I was hungover. I looked at my watch and told Gabe I had an appointment later that morning with my therapist.

“I have to go home to get fresh clothes, so I’ll just shower when I get to my place, but thanks,” I explained with a weak smile.

“Therapy, huh?” He raised an eyebrow. I’d not spoken much with Gabe about my therapy sessions. Tim and June actually knew a lot more about Jenny and how my work with her felt freeing and helpful at times, devastating and difficult at others. I smiled and nodded at Gabe. Sheepishly, he asked, “You ever talk about us?”

“How could I not?” I exclaimed as my heart sped and my mouth dried.

“Right, of course,” he nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Does it, Gabe? Make sense to you?” I asked pointedly. “If so, I’m really glad.”

For a moment, he seemed taken aback as evidenced by a faint flicker of movement on his face, but it passed and I though maybe he’d ignore my outburst. I huffed out a sigh. He turned to get mugs from a cupboard, but with his back to me he said, “Something on your mind, Lucy?”

“Well, yeah. There are a lot of things on my mind. Take last night for example.”

“What about it?”

“ _What about it_? Um, Gabe, you know I’m down for just about anything, but that was weird, even for me.” As soon as my words were out, I felt terrible. He sucked his lips into his mouth, pushed on his glasses, and busied himself pouring coffee, getting milk from the refrigerator, pulling spoons from a drawer. I breathed deeply and tried again. “It’s just, it seems like, well, I’m confused.”

“By what?” His tone was cool, detached, possibly even annoyed. “You showed up here late, unexpected, drunk, and insinuating. I responded as well as I could in the moment.” He set a coffee in front of me, but I couldn’t drink it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I just don’t understand what’s happened between us. Things have changed. You have to admit things have changed.” I watched his reaction which was restricted to blinking a couple times and wrapping his hands around his cup. “We used to know each other so well in bed. We totally connected. But now it’s like you know me and I’m just there searching for you and you won’t let me find you even though you’re right there. I don’t even feel like I’m making sense right now. I can’t make any sense of any of it, Gabe.”

He rubbed his forehead and temples like he had a headache. “Why does it always have to be about sex?”

“It doesn’t, and I don’t think it is, but it’s a part of a relationship. It’s a part of our relationship, or at least it was.” I stepped toward him and put my hand on his arm. He must have been warm in his black clothing in the sun. He’d rolled up his sleeves and his bare arm radiated heat beneath my hand. Standing close to him, I smelled the herbal aroma of the soap he used in his shower, as well as frankincense and sandalwood lingering in his clothing from church incense. It wasn’t stale exactly, or smoky. It was a smell I liked, faint as distant memory, because no matter how many times he sent his garments to the dry cleaners, the rare essence would not wash away. It mingled with starch and salt air and his own primal sweat. An altar boy could have marched up and down the aisles of church, and swung a censer filled with Gabe’s unique melange of smells; it was that sacred to me. I looked up at him, but he looked out the window over his sink like he was absolutely captivated by the birds at the little feeder there. “It’s like you don’t even want to look at me sometimes,” I whispered and took my hand away from him. He turned fully toward the window and put both of his hands on the counter’s edge.

“I look at you, I do,” he grumbled after a while. To prove his point, he rotated his body toward me, but still didn’t make eye contact. He stared at or above my shoulder. As if impatient, he flapped his hands up and down once against his thighs, still staring a million miles away.

“Gabe,” I couldn’t contain the sob that had risen like bile in my throat. “What’s going on? What’s happened?”

His cheeks above his beard flushed. Flustered, he poked at his glasses and said, “Maybe I just don’t like being caught off guard in my own home when you’re in that state. I don’t know.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” I sniffed in a tiny voice. Again, I reached for his arm and my hand slid down to meet his where it was crossed over his chest, stiff as a statue. “But it’s been more than just last night. It’s been weeks now. Things were good, I thought, but something is different now and I don’t understand.”

“Lucy,” he exhaled. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“But I want to! Please, Gabe, please. Help me understand,” I begged through my tears. I kept waiting for him to reach for me in comfort, to hug me, to hush me. Anything. But he was silent and still.

“I can’t,” he said.

“ _Can’t what_?” I pressed, desperately needing an explanation.

“I just can’t explain, and I can’t continue having this conversation right now.” He turned from me again to claim his coffee. For a moment I thought he’d genuflect over me and say _Go in peace to love and serve the lord_ , or some other formal dismissal. But he just took a slow, steady sip of his coffee. “I have a busy week,” he added. “I probably won’t be around much.”

Wiping my eyes, I asked, “Did I make you stop loving me? Cuz I came here last night?” My question seemed to pull an invisible cord that released all the air and tension in him. In fact, his shoulders practically collapsed and he turned and grabbed me.

“No! Please don’t think that!”

“How can I not think that? What am I supposed to think when you won’t even talk to me and you’re frozen stiff and cold? I don’t even know who you are this morning!” I cried and he held my head against his chest. He must have murmured he was sorry ten times. “For what? What are you sorry for? Can’t you just say it? Nothing could be as bad as feeling as worried and confused as I feel when you’re like this,” I said.

He kissed my forehead and cupped my face in his hands. Through gritted teeth he said, “I feel trapped between two enormous stones, guilt and love. And Lucy, they are crushing me to death.” His tongue poked out to moisten his lower lip and he closed his eyes in despair. “I want you, but every time we’re together like that, every time I have that kind of a release, the panic is so immense after, I can hardly bear it.” He opened his eyes and really did look at me, judged my reaction to this confession. “There, are you happy I told you? Does that help make anything better for you? Because I never wanted to say those words to you. I never wanted you to know those things. There’s no relief in it, at least not for me. It’s like I watch myself crawl out from under the stones only to place them on top of you, and that, _that_ Lucia, is worse than anything.”

I inhaled shakily. It wasn’t his words as much as the manner in which he spoke them that made me need to cling to his arms to continue standing. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

He shook his head. “Please don’t apologize.”

“What changed? Did I do something?” I could hardly breathe.

“No, you didn’t do anything,” he muttered. “Nothing changed, exactly. I can only surmise it’s the cumulative effect of wandering between two worlds and belonging in neither.” He sighed heavily. “Let me ask you this: Have I not still shown you love, affection, passion? Have I not continued to offer you erotic satisfaction?”

“You have,” I whispered. I felt precariously balanced on the edge of something. It felt similar to the night before, when I wanted to tell him I missed having his stuff around my apartment but didn’t want to ruin the moment. But it also felt razor sharp and slippery, like the slightest move would cut me to ribbons and send me plunging to the bottom of a jagged cliff to bleed out in a lonely puddle.

“Then you’ve gotta let that be enough,” he said and released me from a grip I hadn’t even realized had gotten much tighter than normal. He looked at his watch. I nodded and backed away. It was warming up nicely outside, but I turned the heat on full blast in my car. I was chilled to the bone.

“It was scary,” I told Jenny a couple hours later. I’d barely stopped crying since I left Gabe’s house. All through my shower and dressing, I cried almost convulsively. It was useless to even consider putting on makeup, and by the time I got to Jenny’s office, I felt dehydrated, but a bit more calm. Jenny got me a paper cup of water, and before we talked about anything, we did the breathing exercises she’d taught me.

“Did he do something to hurt you?” Jenny asked. She leaned forward over her lap and her whole face wrinkled with concern.

“No. He’d never hurt me. I didn’t mean that,” I explained, suddenly feeling guilty for worrying Jenny on top of crushing Gabe with the monumental force of our relationship. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I can’t explain it!”

“It’s okay, Lucy. You were triggered. We aren’t sure what triggered you quite yet and that’s okay. The important thing now is for you to know you’re safe. Do you feel safer now?”

“Yeah, I do,” I said and smiled. I realized I always felt safe with Jenny. Even when we spoke about the worst stuff, I felt safe with her in her office. I told her that.

“I’m so glad,” Jenny said and the concern faded from her face. “And grateful. I wonder if you could think about what it is in our relationship that helps you feel safe?”

It didn’t take much more than a moment for me to come up with an answer. “You’re honest with me and I trust you. It doesn’t feel like you hide your thoughts or opinions from me, even if I don’t really want to hear them, you always find a way to say them to me so I can hear them and get my mind around them eventually. And, I don’t know, you’re always you. Maybe that doesn’t make sense, but like, you’re always the same.”

“Okay, so it helps you to feel safe when you know what someone is thinking, when you trust their honesty in the relationship, and when you know they are going to show up for you and be predictable?” She waited for me to nod, then asked me who else was like this in my life. I mentioned Tim and June and Raffe. “Not Gabriel? He’s not on that list?”

“Ugh, I see what you’re getting at. But just a couple weeks ago, you were saying he was important in helping me feel safe enough to open up. I don’t get it! Is he safe or is he not?”

“Well, apparently, this morning his behavior toward you felt unsafe and it triggered your past trauma. I’m guessing you couldn’t really count on mom and dad to show up and be predictable when you were little?”

“So now I have daddy issues?”

“Not exactly. I think it goes back to _no one is just one thing_. Everything is pretty complicated. All I’m proposing is that this morning, the manner in which Gabriel related to you created a traumatic response because the things that typically help you feel safe were lacking in your exchange. I think it brought up some issues and fears from past trauma. Does that make more sense?” Jenny steepled her fingers under her chin. She observed me carefully while I attempted to make sense of her theory.

“Fucking trauma,” I hissed. “You must think I’m a total loser freak for going back to someone who triggers me like that.” It went without saying we both knew I’d go back as soon as Gabe saw fit to call me again.

“Not at all, Lucy. I’m not here to pass judgement. I’m only making an observation.”

“Do you have pets?” I asked randomly. She jerked her head with a little smile.

“I have three cats,” she answered without the usual song and dance about why I was asking. “I had a dog, but he died last year and I haven’t had the heart to replace him.”

I sighed. “I bet it’s nice being your cats. Sometimes I wish I could just curl up in the corner of your office and never leave. That would feel safe. Or maybe it would just keep me out of trouble. It’s exhausting having to negotiate all this fuckery with people all day every day.”

Jenny smiled indulgently. “I think you’d miss your octopuses and friends and a lot of other things from your life if you were an office cat,” she said in a soft voice. “And as for staying out of trouble, well, you live, you learn,” she chuckled amiably.

“I’m so tired,” I said with a shuddering sob. “I can’t get any of it to match up. When we were good sexually we were fighting all the time, and now we are like the best of friends but the sex is just _bizarre_. And we’re too scared of one another to actually fight. He’s not like Rick at all, but in another way I feel like I spend all this time and energy trying to get us back to the beginning when it was just perfect, like I did with Rick. And it’s exhausting, Jenny. I’m just so tired.”

“I know you are,” Jenny said. She suggested I take the rest of the day to rest and practice some self care. It was a nice thought, but I decided I was better off keeping busy. The lack of Gabe’s contact would be just as distracting as his presence, and it would be better for me to go to work and maintain my routine. After all, it was almost the end of the semester and there was a lot to do before summer recess when my schedule would open up wide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you guys... you have officially made this my story with the most "hits" here on ao3. I never in a million years dreamed that something that came out of my own imagination and wasn't built on someone's already famous characters would ever appeal to anyone, let alone become my most "popular" story here. I really hope this doesn't sound like bragging... I honestly don't mean for it to come across that way. I'm honestly just so so so surprised and incredibly touched that you have all come along with me for this ride. Thank you so much. xoxoxo.... 
> 
> Also, anyone else getting "emotional motion sickness" (as Phoebe Bridgers puts it in her song) from Gabe's inner and outer turmoil? And what do we make of the fact that Lucy's "safe" person has finally triggered her past trauma? hmmm. . . I think we can safely bet on more of the same and some of not the same and then some more whiplash. But isn't that why you all come back again and again? LOL.
> 
> There was also a special inclusion of Gabe's unique personal scent in here for one of my readers who particularly enjoys reading about that! xoxo


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